The Curious Adventures of Molly Goodwin
by emelye14283
Summary: Molly Goodwin, 21 year-old companion to the Doctor, finds herself wrong-footed when the Doctor she knows and loves regenerates into his eleventh Harry Lloyd-esque form. Can she cope? Birthday present to my sister, pico113! Happy birthday, sissy!
1. Sounds Idyllic

This story is dedicated thus:

To my beloved sissy,

I hope you like this story, written especially for you, and I hope I am forgiven for unavoidably missing your birthday for band camp! 3, your sissy

Chapter One

A/N: I broke the Jane Austen rule! (See my other stories or my homepage for information about the Jane Austen rule!) I apologize. Then again, I kind of didn't. You'll see what I mean later. The _real_ hero isn't introduced till the third chapter. Again, you'll get what I mean after chapter three. So please don't blame me for breaking the Jane Austen rule: I didn't!!

Just imagine it. Me! Normal run-of-the-mill everyday dime-a-dozen Molly Goodwin! The Doctor's companion! I had always wanted to travel, but I hadn't ever dreamed that I'd end up traveling all over time and space!

I met the Doctor one unfortunate June when I was eighteen. There was a clan of Orions who invaded my hometown of Newcastle on Tyne. The warlike aliens had rounded up the human population- all save my sister Charlotte, my brother Liam, a few friends and I- and were all ready to kill them off when there was a grating, whirring noise in the alley where we were hiding.

I looked around and saw a blue police box- the police box that had eventually become home- and saw the Doctor emerging. What a sight for sore eyes! Someone who could help save our families!

Of course, this rosy picture was at once burst when we realized that life is sometimes a tragedy. Charlotte, Liam and I were soon attending the funeral of our mother. Despite our high hopes, our mother had been killed by the Orions. Our father became useless instantly after her death, drinking himself into oblivion, so much so that he had to be half-carried to the funeral. Charlotte and Liam were just getting him to the car when I heard that grating, whirring noise behind me again. I froze, heart pounding. I thought I had imagined it. But sure enough, I turned and saw him again.

It was like an excerpt from a dream. He asked me to go with him. And I, being like a ship without an anchor after my mother's death, said yes. I packed my things and within an hour was off to God only knew where!

Charlotte told me, tearfully, that I'd regret it. That I would see sense and decide that my hasty decision was wrong and I'd come back. At that point, I didn't even care. I just wanted to get away from Newcastle on Tyne. And the Doctor was my escape route.

Luckily, I didn't regret my decision. Many are my fond memories of our travels. We took a week jumping around the Upsilon Andromedae system. (Tau Bootis was my particular favorite, though the Doctor preferred planet c for some strange reason known only to himself.) Our trip to the Andromeda galaxy was particularly memorable, being one of the most lovely sights I had ever seen. I loved the outing to Barcelona- it seemed to be a prerequisite for being a companion. In fact, I loved Barcelona so much that we made it a twice a year trip. And New Earth. Oh! it was amazing. New Shanghai, New Rio de Janeiro, New Paris. And (of course) New New York. We'd also been nearly everywhere on Earth. We'd landed in ancient Rome once, during the Julio-Claudian dynasty- boy, did my light dusting of Latin ever come in handy on that trip! Classical Greece, Scotland during the Wars for Independence, the American Civil War, Visigothic Hispania, France in the early Capet dynasty, early Christian Ireland, Tudor England, Wales under Roman occupation. We even had a grand banquet with Charlemagne! And of course, nearly everywhere we went had its share of aliens and strange creatures.

It was like something out of a dream! My run-of-the-mill life was turning into a sparkling existence spent all over time and space!

But of course, there was a catch. There is _always_ a catch. There is no gain unless there is a good measure of pain.

I was not one for clichés. I was pretty much the anti-cliché. My layered blond-brown hair and blue eyes clashed with my un-prissy, tomboyish nature. I wore skinny jeans, listened to alternative music mixed with oldies and the odd smattering of bagpipes, liked the colors black, blue, purple and bright orange, and loved nothing more than being caught in a mob of playful dogs (especially ones with no noses from Barcelona!). And it gets stranger. I didn't have the troubled past that most heroines of those trashy novels have. You know, the drunk rapist of a dad, the dead mother, the abusive boyfriends and the drug or alcohol addictions. No, I had two wonderful, loving parents who stayed together and respected and loved one another as long as they were married. My mother, my sister and I were like best friends rather than a mother and her two daughters. My father, my brother and I liked to watch horror films together on Friday nights. I was never beaten, never neglected, and always loved equally with my brother and sister. I had only had two boyfriends. The first was too sweet to even put too much of a move on me, even kiss me chastely on the lips, until we'd been dating two months. And the second was such a gentleman that he never called after nine at night and always walked me home after lectures. I never felt tempted by drugs or alcohol (save the occasional glass of champagne at a wedding or something special like that) because I hadn't ever had the "tortured, dark, troubling" past that all drama queens claimed to have. Now, I'd say that is pretty anti-archetypal, pretty anti-stereotypical, and decidedly anti-cliché. I can proudly say that I have never quite fit in anywhere. But naturally, the catch.

I fell in love with the Doctor. Yes! It's a shame, but I did. It wasn't so obvious at first. I just thought I had picked the world's best traveling partner. Don't get me wrong- I know for a fact that I _did_ pick the world's best traveling partner- actually, as the Doctor would correct me, the _universe's_ best traveling partner. Little did I know that I'd come to love him the way I did! His half-cocked nature amused me to no end. It fit perfectly with my own enthusiastic temperament. I ended up so swamped that I actually grinned when he grinned simply because the muscles in my face didn't listen to my brain anymore. Now, how pathetic is that? His opinion (second to my own- I can at least claim that I never lost my sense of self while in love!) was my guide. I couldn't imagine a more welcome sight than his manic grin, messy brown hair, suit and converse. And for two of my three years as his companion I muddled along helplessly smitten with him.

Apart from that little cliché, it all sounds perfect, right? Like something out of an old film where the troubled girl finally finds the courage to find a true home with someone who seemed an unlikely candidate for a friend. All I was missing was that part where the music swells and the couple finally gets in for a good snog, right? Well, if you think so, tell me something:

_Why was I standing there terrified at the sight of my Doctor laying half-dead on the TARDIS floor?!_


	2. An Unexpected Blow

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

It all started that morning. I was sleeping on the old tattered couch by the control room wall. I'd spent most of the night before reading Northanger Abbey until I fell asleep with the book open on my chest. After what seemed only a few minutes, I heard laughter. I opened my eyes blearily and saw the Doctor's smiling face.

'I didn't realize you were a bookworm!' he exclaimed as I picked up my book and marked my place.

'There are a lot of things you don't realize about me, Doctor.' I hadn't meant it to pop out, but it did. And it sounded bitter. About as bitter as pure vanilla extract when you lick it off your finger while baking cookies. (And if you've never tried that, it's as bitter as bitter gets!)

The smile slipped of the Doctor's face and he looked confused for a moment. I bowed my head, shamed.

Immediately, though, he hitched his grin onto his face again and cried, 'Well, where to today?' But the words sounded forced, like he was trying a little too hard to be cheerful.

'Oh, I don't know,' I said, mimicking his tone. 'You choose,' I suggested, trying to look apologetic.

My attempt, however, was in vain, for he looked away and started for the console, missing my apologetic expression entirely. I sighed heavily; this was going to be a long day.

The Doctor chose an isolated planet in the Horsehead Nebula. It was a pretty sight, with a rocky cliff-side beach, the salty air moist with spray. Thought it was a lovely sight, I took no pleasure in it. I was still sorry about what I had said and, more to the point, _how_ I had said it.

'Nothing like the briny smell of the sea to calm even the tightest nerves!' exclaimed the Doctor, breathing deeply in an over-exaggerated fashion.

I made a slight noise of agreement in the back of my throat, being unable to bring myself to say anything. I was rehearsing an apology in my head.

'D-doctor...' I stuttered.

'What is it, Molly?'

I took a deep breath. 'About what I said... earlier...'

'Which bit?' he inquired dully.

'Th-the bit about not knowing much about-'

I was interrupted by a splash from the water.

We both looked down in unison and saw a white ring of sea foam where the initiator of the splash had disappeared. 'What on earth...' I mused quietly, squinting at the water.

'I think, Molly, since we are involved, we can safely say "what in the universe",' the Doctor said with a light laugh.

'Well, what in the universe?' I amended.

We found out, too. Only too soon. Lacertian Reptilians- vicious, telepathic water creatures. The afternoon ended with a vicious battle for our lives (which included me nearly being dragged off by a pair of reptilians who were ordering in my mind not to shout for help).Finally, with a few clever measures by the Doctor, we made a run for the TARDIS; that sainted blue police box that served as our "getaway car" too many times to count.

We'd just slammed the door and the Doctor was fiddling with the controls as I laughed breathlessly. 'Imagine that!' I said sarcastically. 'Us, running into aliens. _That_ doesn't happen often.'

Then I noticed something was wrong. The Doctor's eyes were closed and he wasn't laughing or even smiling, which was unusual after a good scrap. He had a nasty cut by his temple, but I thought nothing of it. I had quite a few scratches myself. But then he slumped forward, lifeless.

I couldn't even scream. Time seemed to slow down, like in those bad TV shows where someone's fall or faint is replayed six or seven times in slow motion with the sound of a heartbeat in the background. As I said, I wasn't one for clichés, but that's just what happened... without the six or seven times bit. Before I knew it, he hit the TARDIS floor and time sped up again.

So I was kneeling next to an unconscious Doctor not knowing what the hell I was supposed to do. Where was that dream-like life I'd just been living? It seemed like it had been suddenly turned into a nightmarish hell.

'What do I do?! What do I do?! Oh my fucking God! _What the hell am I supposed to do?!_' I screeched to the TARDIS at large. I took the Doctor's pulse, still shrieking. Suddenly, there was a sound from the TARDIS and my phone buzzed in my pocket. The 'Intergalactic Mobile', I always called it. I hurriedly pulled it out and looked at the screen. The word 'Martha' was displayed in black letters. I realized that the TARDIS was trying to tell me something.

'Of course!' I squealed. I dialed her number frantically and waited impatiently for her to pick up.

I kept my fingers on the Doctor's neck, making sure his faint but steady pulse didn't fade out. 'Come on, Martha!' I cried. 'Pick up, you stupid-'

'Hello?' Martha's voice sounded wary. 'Who is it?'

'It's me, Molly,' I told her quickly. 'Where are you?' I asked in a crazed voice.

'Calm down and talk slowly, Molls,' ordered Martha in a criminally calm voice.

'I can't calm down!' I squawked. 'The Doctor! Something's happened to him! I need your help!'

'Can you get here?' she asked, suddenly businesslike and emotionless. She really did make a wonderful doctor.

'I... I think so,' I muttered, suddenly unsure. Indeed, the Doctor had allowed me to learn the basics of driving the TARDIS, which had taken a while and taken us to very... erm... _interesting_ places. 'Where are you?' I repeated.

'My practice.'

'When?' I questioned.

'February 3rd, 2010, around three in the afternoon.'

'All right,' I said. 'We'll be there in no time.'

I hung up and hurriedly moved to the console. I set the dials in the right spot and we were off.

After much bumping (and me ending up in the corner on the floor clutching my shoulder), I managed to get us to Martha's practice. She had set herself up late last year in a small business district near my sister Charlotte's apartment. I was immensely proud of her. Of all the Doctor's former companions, I liked Martha best.

I opened the door to see Martha pacing anxiously around her office. The sight of her in her white coat relieved my panic, but only slightly.

Upon seeing me, Martha hurried to my side and we managed to carry the Doctor to the examining bed. Really, he was heavy when he was unconscious!

She felt his pulse, listened to his breathing and said, 'Nothing's wrong.'

'What?' I inquired, thinking I'd heard her wrong.

She shrugged. 'Apart from being unconscious- and running a high temperature- there's nothing wrong with him.'

'But he passed out!' I protested.

'I know,' she told me, pulling a thoughtful face. 'And that's what's worrying me.'

'How do you mean?'

'He once told me all about his regenerations. This looks suspiciously like one.'

My heart stopped. I couldn't speak. My Doctor? Regenerating? It wasn't possible! I had always told myself that looks don't matter to me. But I confess that there definitely is something in familiarity, isn't there? Personally, my answer when you asked "what do you first think of when I say 'the Doctor?'" would have to be "charisma, bed hair, and converse". What would his new self be like?

My emotions must have shown on my face because Martha smiled her reassuring smile and said softly, 'There is a strong chance that I'm wrong, you know. This might just be calcium or sodium deficiency.'

I laughed weakly. 'We'll just have to wait and see, won't we?' I murmured, trying to show more confidence than I felt.

She smiled wanly for a moment before saying, 'Well, I can't keep him in here.'

I laughed wildly- it sounded like she was talking about a stray dog!

'I have an appointment in here at three,' she explained, rolling her eyes at me.

'Oh,' I said, thinking for a moment. 'Well... my sister.'

'You mean Charlotte?' questioned Martha.

I nodded. 'She lives near here.'

'I know! She's one of my patients!' she said excitedly. 'Last time she was here, a couple months ago, we were talking about you.'

'Nothing bad, I hope.'

She laughed lightly. 'No.' Sighing, she muttered, 'Here, I'll get my car. We can load him in the back and get him to Charlotte's.'

'Erm...'

'What?' she inquired, in the midst of acting as the Doctor's human crutch.

'What about the TARDIS?' I wondered. 'Your next patient might think it's a little strange that there's a honking great police call box in your office.'

She let go of the Doctor, who fell limply to the table, smacking his head. 'Good point, that,' she praised me, completely ignoring the Doctor. 'There's an old alley behind the practice. You can park her there.'

I nodded.

Ten minutes later, I re-entered the office and helped Martha half drag-half carry the Doctor to her car. I gave her directions to Charlotte's apartment, only half aware of what I was saying. I was thinking about all the times I'd had with the Doctor. Happy times. What if the new Doctor was different? I mean, different inside as well as outside. How would things be then?

Then I mentally kicked myself and told myself that Martha had said it was possible she was mistaken. I took hope in that. The hope of a drowning person when they say to themselves, "just a few more feet to the surface". A crazy person's hope.

I knocked on Charlotte's door, praying that she was in. The door opened, and I saw Charlotte's familiar face, crowned with raven black hair and accented with wide brown eyes.

Charlotte's glance landed on the Doctor, and her jaw dropped. 'What happened to him, Molly?' she asked me in a low voice.

'Long story,' I muttered. 'Can we use the spare bedroom, Lottie?'

She nodded mutely, stepping aside so Martha and I could drag the Doctor into the apartment.

The spare bedroom was a small cluttered room in the back of the apartment. Charlotte sometimes had Liam over to stay, mostly when I was in the area so we could visit.

Trying to ignore the flood of memories with the four of us (me, Charlotte, Liam, and the Doctor) and our many happy moments around Charlotte's table, I helped Martha deposit the Doctor on the bed.

'Not much we can do until he's conscious,' Martha told me, stepping back and toward the door.

I just stared at the Doctor's limp form. I'd never seen him sleep- he always said he didn't need sleep. I had never even seen him sit still for more than three seconds together. Now he was completely still, like a stone statue.

Noticing where my eyes lingered, Charlotte suggested, 'We could order take-out for lunch. What would you like, Molly?'

I shrugged. I didn't much care.

'Martha?' Charlotte was employing a falsely cheery voice.

'Anything. What's close and good?' Martha inquired, taking my elbow and leading me out of the room.


	3. I Hate Change

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

'Molly, eat something,' chided Charlotte, pointing to the pad Thai on my plate. 'Playing with your food isn't going to do any good.'

I mumbled incoherently as I twirled the rice noodles on my plate around the tines of my fork idly.

'What do you say to some girl time tomorrow evening?' Martha suggested enthusiastically. 'It's been a while since I've had any time off.'

'That'd be lovely,' Charlotte enthused. 'My house?'

I made a sound in the back of my throat but didn't look away from my rice noodles.

Charlotte slammed her fork down and glared at me. 'Molly, if you haven't noticed, Martha and I are trying to support you all we can. But we can't if you don't make some effort!'

'Charlotte,' cautioned Martha, throwing a worried glance at me.

Charlotte merely glared at Martha. 'No,' she snarled. 'I've taken crap from her, but I'm not taking any more.' She turned her furious stare to me. 'Molly, it's your fault you're in a shitty mood. If you hadn't uprooted yourself-'

'Charlotte, stop!' I whined, feeling the tears creep into my eyes.

'No!' she shouted, her brown eyes flashing dangerously. 'If you hadn't made a stupid decision, you wouldn't be here moping about someone who shouldn't even be in your life!'

I started to cry in earnest; not because of the Doctor and the added stress of my sister's outburst, but because I knew, deep down, that she was absolutely right.

'I'll let you two stay here, but I'm not going to let you mope yourself to death!' Charlotte continued to rage, not affected in the slightest by my tears.

'Charlotte!' snapped Martha, looking disbelievingly at my sister.

'Buck up, Molly,' Charlotte growled, storming away from the table and toward her bedroom.

I continued to cry, burying my head in my arms. I knew she was right, and it was more that than anything else that made me continue weeping. I wanted to buck up- Charlotte had no idea how badly I wanted to be strong. But I couldn't be strong; there was no way I could stop thinking about the Doctor, and what would happen if he regenerated.

I felt Martha lay a hand on my shoulder, a silent but reassuring presence in the brewing storm that was to be the last time lord's regeneration.

The next morning, I woke up with the sun in my eyes. I squinted around the room, unfamiliar with my surroundings for a moment. After a moment, I realized that I was in the back bedroom of Charlotte's apartment. (Charlotte offered to sleep on the fold-out couch so I could be comfortable.) With that thought, all the memories from the previous day exploded into my mind, causing me to fall back on the pillows and groan.

I allowed myself five minutes of pessimism, coming up with the worst possible situations in my heads before dragging myself to my feet and slipping into a wrinkled pair of jeans and a bright purple shirt under a black, tight-fitting sweatshirt. I paused at the bedroom door and took a deep breath, scared of what I might find on the other side of the door.

What if the Doctor had already regenerated? Would he still want me to travel with him? Would I still even want to?

What if he hadn't regenerated, and Martha and Charlotte had told him about how I was acting the evening before? What would he think?

And what if he hadn't even regained consciousness yet? Another day of waiting. Could I face it?

_Buck up, Molly,_ Charlotte's voice snarled in my head, giving me the blind, angry courage to throw the door open.

The apartment was empty. I hadn't expected Martha to stick around- she was, after all, a busy practicing doctor. Still, I admit that I wanted Charlotte to be around. It was a Saturday morning, so I was sure she didn't have work. Maybe she had to get out of the apartment. To be honest, I didn't blame her. Less than twenty-four hours and I was already starting to go stir-crazy. I had reason to wonder if I was taking on the Doctor's nomadic, wandering spirit.

I walked to the counter, and reached for the bread to make myself a piece of toast when I caught sight of a hot pink sticky note on the counter. I curiously pulled it off and recognized Charlotte's spidery handwriting.

Molly, Had to pop out and do some shopping; help yourself. Your friend is still out of it. Sorry about last night. Be back soon. XO, Charlotte

I grinned in spite of myself. Charlotte was always like this- so succinct and, if you didn't know her well, cold and uncaring. However, I had known her all my life, so I could feel the sincerity and honesty in her written words.

I sobered up almost immediately. The Doctor was still unconscious? That could be a definite bad sign.

As this occurred to me, I heard a noise from the spare bedroom. My heart sped up violently. Attempting to breathe normally, I walked slowly toward the door, listening for the slightest noise. I paused and listened with my ear to the door, and I heard labored breathing, as though the inhabitant had been running for a solid five miles. I wanted to open the door and see what was behind it, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. Memories flashed across my mind, all of the Doctor- my Doctor- smiling and laughing, full of life. I didn't want to see him like this.

_Buck up, Molly..._

I breathed deeply. 'Buck up,' I said aloud. And with that bolstering phrase, I pulled open the door. I was definitely not prepared for the shock that I felt. The Doctor looked like the victim of the bubonic plague. Tossing like a tortured victim of a demonic possession, his eyes were closed tightly and his brow was slick with a sheen of fevered sweat.

Instead of running back out of the room like I wanted to, I hastened to his bedside and tried to calm him. 'Doctor!' I cried, shaking him slightly. 'Doctor, wake up!' I don't really know why I thought that would help, but that is indeed what I said.

Taking me completely by surprise, he reached up and cupped my face in his hands, his brown eyes opening and staring at me with their fevered intensity.

Though this action alone was enough to surprise me, nothing in the world- in the _universe_- could have prepared me for what came out of his mouth.

'Rose?' he asked in an urgent, rough voice. 'Rose?!'

I gasped, pulling away from him and hurrying to the door, afraid that I was having a heart attack judging by the way my heart was racing fit to burst. I slammed the door behind me, leaning against it and closing my eyes. I attempted to force my breathing down to a normal rate, but I didn't succeed for nearly two minutes.

I was in a state of extreme emotional distress. He thought I was Rose? He didn't even think of me? Molly? Average, dime-a-dozen, reliable, trustworthy Molly? No, his first thought was for his precious Rose!

I groaned, banging the back of my head against the bedroom door.

Rose! I hated, despised, abhorred, and loathed the very name of her! I hadn't even met the wretched woman, and I hated her with the passion of forty suns. She was the only woman the Doctor could think of. I hated her. She was the one the Doctor always droned on about. I despised her. She was the only one the Doctor cared about. She was the one who kept his mind from me. I abhorred her, loathed her!

Yes, I was jealous. Ever so jealous. I wanted to take the Doctor by the shoulders and shake him hard until every memory of his sainted Rose fell out of his ears and clattered to the floor where I could sweep them into the dust bin and take them out with the trash! No matter how patient I always told myself to be, I couldn't stop these angry thoughts- bitter, vindictive thoughts- from creeping into my mind.

And now he wanted Rose, when I was here, ready to help him, wanting to help him. Was I not good enough for him?!

Before I got myself on a mental tirade, I forced myself to hear Charlotte's voice in my head telling me to buck up.

I made myself repeat her words aloud and a bold, strong voice: 'Buck up, Molly.'

Charlotte came back around eleven. The Doctor still hadn't awakened. The sound of movement from the back room persisted and rang loudly through the silent apartment until Charlotte suggested we watch a film. I believe we watched Ever After, but I don't really remember. What I do remember was a kissing couple, and the bitter thoughts toward Rose that popped into my head at the sight of them.

Martha arrived at five, or shortly thereafter. We'd been finished with the first movie for a while, and had started Sense and Sensibility (I remember this because I was glad there was no kissing until the very, very end).

'Any change?' Martha inquired, setting down her purse on the kitchen table.

I shook my head dully, my eyes fixed on the screen as Colonel Brandon told Elinor about Willoughby's duplicity.

She sighed and took a seat next to me.

I must have fallen asleep at some point that night, during yet another movie, because the next thing I knew, I was waking up in Charlotte's room again.

Sighing, I pushed myself to my feet and, expecting a repeat of the day before, I walked into the main room without a second thought, clad in my sleep pants and tank top.

That turned out to be a big mistake.

Standing at the counter was a smiling Martha, and chatting Charlotte, and an unfamiliar man.

He was tall and... there was no other word for it really... rangy. His black hair was short and slightly spiked up in the front, his brown eyes glinted with quick wit, humor, and something else I couldn't identify but made me feel slightly giddy. He was clad in jeans and a band tee, reminding me inexplicably of Liam.

Despite his striking appearance, there was obviously only one question that I could have asked: 'Who the hell are you?'

Charlotte pressed her hand to her mouth, stifling her laughter. Martha's expression was one of amusement.

The stranger's face, however, fell. 'Molly?'

My face must have been blank, waiting for an answer, because he sighed. 'This must have been the most drastic one yet if you don't even recognize me,' he said sadly.

My heart literally stopped beating for a moment. No. No, it couldn't be! Not the Doctor! I felt like my heart sank onto the bottom of a deep, dark canyon and die. I hadn't even gotten to see his familiar face, his bright smile, hear his laugh one last time! It was as though the most important person in my life had just passed away suddenly, leaving me no chance to remind them how much I loved them. I was back to being a ship without an anchor. First my mother, then my Doctor...

'Molly,' murmured Martha. 'This is the Doctor.'

A flash of anger seared my mind. 'No,' I sputtered. 'No, he's not.'

'Yes, he is,' Charlotte maintained in a soft voice.

He wasn't my Doctor! I wouldn't ever see that man- _alien_- again. Instead I was stuck with this fake, this imitation of the person I cared about most in the world! 'No!' I shrieked, turning around and flying back into Charlotte's room, collapsing on the bed, and proceeding to cry my stupid eyes out.


	4. A Beginning

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

A/N: I have no idea how a Time Lord would actually regenerate (I'm relatively new to the series). So, I decided to have him do the actual changing while Molly wasn't there to tell her side of the story. So no flames, please!

Please continue to enjoy my birthday story for my sister!

Half an hour later, I emerged from Charlotte's room. After fifteen minutes, I'd stopped crying, then caught sight of myself in the mirror and decided to look stronger than I actually was.

I pulled on a pair of black pants and a navy-blue shirt, hurriedly combing my hair into a somewhat tame position. Pinching my cheeks slightly to give the pale skin a little healthy color, I sighed and made my way out of the room.

I saw the new Doctor and had to fight down another sob. Every difference in his appearance and manner was like a hard slap in the face for me. I hated change, and the most important person in my life had just changed as drastically as though he'd been replaced by a new person. It made me feel sickeningly nostalgic.

Within a moment, all three pairs of eyes in the kitchen were on me. I gave a shaky smile. While I had been getting myself ready, I had made a resolution in my mind: even though this man- _alien_- was not who he had been before, I was determined to go with him. Even though the one I had loved was as good as dead to me, being so changed and unlike his old self, I still wanted to see the wonders of the universe and the fascinating places in time. I would not give up life on the TARDIS for anything. Not even the loss of _my_ Doctor.

'Feeling better?' I asked the new Doctor.

His brown eyes narrowed slightly in vexation. 'Y-yes,' he answered slowly. His voice was low and silky, easy to listen to. But it wasn't like his old voice. His old energetic, manic tones...

I pushed away these thoughts and continued to smile at the new Doctor (I simply could not call his just the Doctor... not yet). 'Ready to be going, then?' I asked, taking a step forward.

Martha stared at me, shocked. Charlotte's expression was similarly confounded.

The new Doctor looked at me with surprise, but the kind that one gets when they find a fiver in their coat pocket. 'You... you want to come?' he questioned, as though he was trying to clarify.

Steeling myself, I nodded, trying to give a reassuring smile. 'Of course. I've grown so used to the nomadic lifestyle. What on earth would I do in one place for more than a week?' I laughed, though I suspected it sounded a little too forced.

A broad grin broke over the new Doctor's face. I sighed inwardly at the sight of it- _another difference,_ I thought dully. His new smile, thought it showed the same kind of sheer happiness his old one showed, seemed less manic and more... more... well, it seemed like he had a large amount of feeling but did not care to show more that a little bit at a time. I could, however, see the same underlying manic happiness glinting in his dark brown eyes.

No matter how happy and easy his smile was, I could not bring myself to take comfort in it. It was not the old one.

'Well, we could leave this afternoon,' the new Doctor suggested. I nodded, feeling apprehensive, yet excited to be gone from the cramped apartment.

He grinned again. Impulsively, it seemed, he moved forward and pulled me into a bear hug.

I confess I was horribly surprised. I had only known this new Doctor for half an hour. And he was already hugging me? Not wanting to seem cold and standoffish, I hugged him back, and suddenly, it felt right. Right that I should go with him. Right that he should feel close enough to me to give out random hugs. Right that I should drop the word "new" and just use "the Doctor".

'Thank you, Molly,' he muttered in my ear. 'It nice to know I have someone like you to stick with me.'

I bit back the retort I was longing to throw at him, something about how he'd rather it be Rose that had stuck with him, but decided that it was not the time, as he released me, to mention such things. I vowed to keep the words he said as he regenerated to myself, and never tell a living soul. Not until the time was right.

'Leave in... what do you think... an hour?' he supposed.

I nodded, a small smile on my face.

An hour later, all four of us were standing at the door of Charlotte's apartment. I hugged my sister goodbye, remembering the time I had first left with the Doctor. This time was better- at least she wasn't crying. I don't think I could have borne any more soppiness.

'Good luck, Molly,' she whispered in my ear.

I grinned, patting her on the shoulder.

'Bye, Molls,' grinned Martha, pulling me into a back-breaking hug. 'Tell me all about it when I see you next!' she ordered me, feigning a stern demeanor.

I laughed, nodding. And suddenly I had an idea.

That evening, I excused myself from the sitting room in the TARDIS, where the atmosphere was as thick as London fog. I beat the familiar path to my room, feeling the Doctor's brown eyes on me as I disappeared into the hallway.

Breathing deeply and feeling as though I hadn't breathed properly since early that morning, I closed the door of my room and sank onto the twin mattress. Though the day had been anything but draining, as we were drifting all day, I felt completely drained. I hardly had the energy to get up again and move to my bookshelf, the entire bottom shelf of which was covered in spiral-bound notebooks. Half of them were unused- I took on of these with a forest-green cover. The other half were full of doodles, sketches, and half-formed ideas for novels I had tried (and failed) to finish.

I threw the notebook on the bed, changing into my pajamas. Leaning against the headboard of my bed, I opened the notebook, brushed the dust and bits of shaved cardboard off the pristine page, and began to write:

_I was thinking this afternoon as I said goodbye to Charlotte (my sister) and Martha (you'll probably meet her, or will have met her already) about the Doctor's former companions. How did they cope with the Doctor regenerating? They left no record, much to my dismay._

_Now, I don't pretend to think that I will be the Doctor's last companion. I know, and am resigned to the fact, that he will find others to take my place, probably before the sheets in my abandoned bed are cold. So, I have decided to be the first of the Doctor's many companions to document the phenomenon of a Time Lord's regeneration._

_I plan to begin my documentation tomorrow._

_Here's hoping that my makeshift guide will help someone! , Molly Goodwin_

Satisfied, I closed the notebook and stuck my pen into the spiral.

I felt a wave of tiredness crash over me, and turned off my bedside lamp.


	5. Days 1 and 2

Chapter Five

Chapter Five

A/N: From here on out, the story will be told as though in a journal. Just so you know. No more italics; too many of them make me dizzy.

And yes, some of these chapters can get a little slow. But please, bear with me!

Day 1

Today was... awkward. We spent the day "drifting". I sat on the tattered couch (is it still there, future companion?) reading. Not Northanger Abbey, though. I might be able to read it again someday, but at the present in brings back recent and painful memories that I'd rather not think about. Instead, I read _The Last Boleyn_ (by Karen Harper, in case you're interesting or desperate for new reading material!), which is about as far from Jane Austen as I can get.

Whenever I heard footsteps coming into the room, I looked up expecting to see the old Doctor- _my_ Doctor- but instead of him I saw this new Doctor; while he seems like a kind, thoughtful, quietly intelligent person, I cannot warm up to him. I feel like when we do share conversation (and that which we do exchange is not strikingly deep) there is something between us that will not allow me to open up. Almost like a physical barrier. Maybe it's the ghost of who he once was, keeping me from talking properly to the person who is to be my new traveling partner. Come to think of it, I fancy I felt a more familiar, comforting presence enter the room a step before the new Doctor.

Or maybe I should simply cross Emily and Charlotte Brontë off my reading list...

I'm tired, and have not been in a very god mood since waking up. There's no point in writing my bitter thoughts.

Day 2

Another day of drifting. Nothing to report on the excitement front.

The Doctor (uncharacteristically) seems uncomfortable. I can tell that he is just getting used to his new body (which is taller and slightly... rangier than before). I walked into the kitchen to make myself a piece of toast. (You know how it is when you really want to eat a specific thing? I really fancied a piece of toast with raspberry jam!) I saw the Doctor making a cup of tea. I leaned against the counter; he was blocking the toaster, you see, so I was patiently waiting for him to finish.

He didn't seem to notice that I was there, because he kept muttering to himself in hi low, understated voice, so different from the old motor mouth crazy talk. I listened quietly as he murmured, 'A cup of tea. How hard can it be to make a cup o tea? Stupid new body. Already spilled it twice.' He tore open the tea bag and moved to grab the mug.

I suppose he was used to his old, emphatic gestures, which were somewhat slower. His current movement are quicker, more cat-like, which (I am guessing) took him by surprise. In the time that it used to take him to grab the mug, he could go much further were there not a mug full of hot water in his way. Instead of grabbing the mug, he knocked it over, sending the hot water splashing onto the floor.

Angrily, he threw the tea bag into the counter and shouted, 'Bloody hell! This is so bloody ridiculous! I give up!'

The whole situation struck me as strangely hilarious. I began to giggle.

The Doctor looked over at me. The expression of his face changed from one of frustration and exasperation to one of surprise and embarrassment.

This, of course, only made me laugh harder. Still laughing, I grabbed a handful of paper towels. 'Here. Let me help,' I insisted, getting to my knees and beginning to mop up the water.

He knelt beside me, his pale cheeks lightly colored. 'Stupid regenerations,' he explained with a rueful laugh.

I thought about his old self, and how much I missed him, every second of the day, and I spoke without thinking. 'yes,' I agreed fervently, forgetting momentarily the principle of delicacy.

The look of hurt in his brown eyes told me that I'd said the wrong thing. I was suddenly furious with myself. How dare I be so rude? It isn't as though he can help when he regenerates! I backpedaled and added, 'They must be a real hassle for you.'

He nodded dully, still looking downcast.

At that moment, he reminded me so much of my brother, Liam, what with the thoughtful expression, the expressive eyes, the band tee, the lip-biting in awkward moments, that I felt absolutely terrible.

'So...' I floundered, getting to my feet as we wiped up the remains of the Doctor's attempt at a cuppa. 'Still want that tea?' I inquired, eager to make up for my thoughtlessness.

He shrugged his shoulders- odd; that gesture, which usually looks slouchy and unrefined on most people, looks so graceful and artless when he does it. 'I might try just once more,' he replied, setting the mug upright after wiping the water off it.

I gave an airy laugh. 'No. I'll make it- tea sounds good. I'll fix two cups.'

The disappointment in his eyes softened slightly. 'Thanks, Molly,' he said quietly.

That was an hour ago. Now I'm ensconced in my room, the familiar surroundings a comfort after a day of big leaps. (It makes me feel odd to think that you, future companion, might be reading my words in a few years in this same bedroom, which will show no evidence of my stay here. This writing will be all that's left of me on the TARDIS. It makes me feel...oddly anonymous.)As I write this, I am surrounded by sketched I've drawn of different worlds and other eras. I have a few collected objects from our travels- an arrow shot from the bow of Robin Hood, a dried thistle from New Scotland, a piece of driftwood from the beaches of Tau Bootis. My bed fits snuggly in the small room, only two feet on either side and at the foot of navigable space. And, of course, my bookshelf. I do hope we do something other than drifting tomorrow; I've finished _The Last Boleyn_, and I need to pick up new reading material. A tip, future companion: Don't stress about library due dates- what's the point of a time machine if you can't cheat deadlines?


	6. Day 3

Chapter Six

Chapter Six

Day 3

Boy, did I ever get my wish! Today was an interesting day. No, no aliens. One of the few times that aliens had nothing to do with it. Horses.

To be specific, one special horse, made of wood. Can you guess, future companion, where we were today?

If your guess was Troy, you're absolutely right!

When I woke up this morning, I had a strangely high amount of energy. Skipping into the control room, I was met by the Doctor.

Do you know something, future companion? The sight of his tall, rangy, black-haired self didn't even take me by surprise this morning. I admit it didn't inspire in me a feeling of total comfort, but I was not shocked by the absence of the pinstripe suit.

Hmm... now I think on it, I like his new style. Sure, the suit, coat and Converse made a real statement. But the band tees and jeans are just... so reassuringly... normal. (If I can be allowed to call the Doctor normal). He still wears his Converse, though. I'm not sure if I like that bit. Whenever I catch a glimpse of them, I remember his old self. Still, I guess there's a plus side to this: when I remember the old Doctor, I remember all the good times we had. And in any case, I don't feel like being rude and asking him not to wear them.

Anyway, back to Troy: The Doctor greeting me with a smile. 'What should we do today, Molly?' he asked, his brown eyes meeting mine. 'Where to?'

Glad that were going somewhere, I pulled a thoughtful face. 'I dunno... somewhere close to home?' I suggested. 'Err...'

'Home,' he repeated. 'Err...' Suddenly, an inspired expression lit his features. 'Home... err... I've got it!' he burst out, starting to mess with the TARDIS controls.

'Where?' I asked, feeling truly excited for the first time since the day we tangled with the Lacertian Reptilians. 'When?'

As the TARDIS started to jolt, he gave me a mischievous look. 'You'll see,' was all he said.

When the TARDIS stopped quaking, he strode to the door, laying a hand upon it. Turning to me once again with a small smile, he repeated, "Home... err...'

I was utterly perplexed. Hey, I'm the first to admit that I'm rather slow!

He opened the door and gestured grandly at the surrounding countryside.

I stepped forward and peeked eagerly out. The scenery was unfamiliar to me. In the distance, I saw the walls of a large city- clearly ancient- and what seemed like a military camp pitched outside it. By the quality of the dim light, I could tell it was dawn.

'Where are we?' I inquired, genuinely intrigued.

The Doctor was grinning like a school boy. 'This, Miss Goodwin, is the legendary city of Troy,' he informed me.

I gasped. 'Homer!' I exclaimed, suddenly understanding his cryptic repetitions.

He laughed at my reaction. 'Care you pay King Agamemnon a visit?' he asked.

I nodded, grinning fit to burst. I began to hurry toward the camp, the Doctor by my side.

'I remembered that you like to read, and I thought you might kike to see the setting of the Iliad for real,' he told me.

I gaped at him. 'You remembered?'

Laughing again, he asked, 'Did you expect me not to?'

'Well...' I faltered, not knowing exactly how to say what I was bound by honesty to say, '_Before_... you wouldn't have.'

A dark look crossed his face. 'The physical appearance is not all that changes in a regeneration,' he explained, hesitating, it seemed, on every word.

'Really?'

He nodded.

Since he didn't expand on his remark, I didn't press him for details. I considered the possible meanings of his statement the rest of the way to the Grecian camps. As we arrived, the occupants of the tents began to stir. Some soldiers ignored us; some stared at our "outlandish" clothing, and some greeted us courteously (in Greek, of course; I'm always grateful that the TARDIS translates for her passengers!).

Finally, we came to the largest and grandest tent. The Doctor flashed me a grin and we moved to enter.

A man strode purposefully out of the tent, nearly running over me. 'Sorry, my lady,' he muttered curtly before strutting off.

I glared at the retreating armed soldier. 'Jerk,' I muttered.

'That was Achilles,' whispered the Doctor with a hint of a laugh.

I raised my eyebrows at him. 'How do _you_ know?'

'I've been here before.'

I was, if possible more confused.

'A couple years ago, for them,' he explained, gesturing around.

I nodded. 'Well, if I were Achilles, I'd put my foot in a shove-off block of concrete,' I muttered.

The Doctor laughed lightly. 'Is that one of yours?' he inquired.

Grimacing, I shook my head. 'It's Eddie Izzard's,' I admitted.

The tent flap opened, revealing a grandly-dressed man. His eyes widened in surprise at the sight of us, but he made a small bow. 'How may I help you?' he inquired in a deep voice.

The Doctor mirrored him, laying a hand on my back to urge me to do the same thing. 'King Agamemnon?' he questioned smoothly.

The rest of the day passed pleasantly, with the Doctor and myself attending luncheon with the fabled king. He was really quite agreeable; very witty and enjoyable to talk to. Achilles, on the other hand, was extraordinarily stuck up. Now, I like to think that I have a patient nature, but it was all I could do not to slap his arrogant face.

The Doctor and I left at sunset- a beautiful sunset at that- and it was with regret that I parted from the kindly Agamemnon. (I, of course, dropped terribly obvious hints about horses and decoys... though I'm afraid I might have confused Agamemnon more that I helped him.)

I barely nodded at Achilles- who wants to waste their breath on egotistical jerks? The Doctor, however, tried to make up for my rudeness by hinting, 'By the way, I watch that heel of yours if I were you.' The great buffoon (Achilles, of course; the Doctor _is not_ a great buffoon) just looked confused as we walked away.

Upon arriving at the TARDIS, the Doctor made a pot of tea. (Without spilling it once! He's making progress!) I settled into the cushions of the couch with my mug cradled between my hands. 'You know, your hint didn't help,' I informed him. 'Achilles would think his brave gesture was noble and romantically self-sacrificing,' I said with mock solemnity.

He shrugged; it didn't seem to bother him. I wish he wouldn't do that (shrugging, I mean)- it gives me the chills. I don't know why.

I really did enjoy today, future companion. I'm not just saying that, either. I hope tomorrow is just as fun. Ha! I'm looking forward to tomorrow! This is a god sign.


	7. Day 4

Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

Day 4

Today was not quite what you'd call fun. Memorable, though.

We landed on a large spaceship which was in the midst of an alien insect infestation. Little... well, not really little... 5-inch long mosquito-like thinks with huge red eyes reminiscent of cicadas.

Lovely little creatures, huh?

The crew was in a panic (understandably). The captain, a well-built 'brick wall' named Andy, had tried to rectify the situation single-handedly, but only succeeded in releasing the insects from their isolation in sector 5.

Well done, Andy. Well done.

The custodian, Jem, managed to kill one of the bugs by whacking it with a handy mop as it rested on the captain's chair. (Andy was rather repulsed by the guts smeared on the upholstery.)

Clever as always, the Doctor immediately set to making a DNA testing machine. (The whole idea rather reminded me of how the Professor made a radio out of coconuts on Gilligan's Island.) he put on his old black-rimmed rectangular spectacles to accomplish the task. (Does he still wear them, future companion?) The sight of them made me laugh wildly for a second, trying to mask my discomfort. Naturally, they reminded me of his old self. Though I must admit that they do set off his brown eyes just as well as, if not better than, before. But that's beside the point...

I helped out by handing him the bits and pieces he required. Well, I tried to, anyway. The second-in-command, Phil, seemed to end up wherever I needed to go to fetch the necessary pieces. While he seemed nice enough, his habit of talking my ear off while I was supposed to be listening to and helping the Doctor really got to me after a while. He would stand next to me as I knelt and watched the Doctor's delicate work. At first, the three of us chatted amiably, but as the Doctor kept getting into detailed work, he'd need me to hold things or hand him bits of wire. I'd be trying to be polite to Phil and converse with him so the Doctor had to resort to shouting my name several times to get my attention. Consequently, the Doctor got irritated with him; he told Phil that he needed my undivided attention if the DNA tester was to be finished by midnight. Looking cheated, Phil walked away.

I sent a playful glare at the Doctor. 'That was rather rude,' I told him.

He snorted, focused intently on the gadget he was constructing. 'You can't honestly say that you don't thank me for getting rid of him,' he muttered slowly, concentrating hard on connecting two wires.

Blushing, I admitted, 'No. But he was nice. And anyway, he kind of reminded me of your old motor mouth self.'

He groaned. 'I must have been really annoying,' he said fervently. 'Tweezers,' he muttered in a flatter voice, holding out his left hands. I obliged.

Finally, he was finished. Grinning in a way that made my face muscles hurt just watching, he scooped up art of the mashed bug. Doing something scientific that I can't even begin to understand, he was shocked to discover that the bugs were 100 man-made. I've never seen anyone look that confused, stumped, and disappointedly hopeless in all of my life. And I hope I never do again.

'man-made?' he kept saying, his voice higher than usually. 'But made by whom? Which men?' he asked, looking at me. I said nothing. After all, Ho was _I_ supposed to know?

'We should tell the crew,' I said after a while. Mutely, he nodded and stood to follow me.

As the Doctor broke the puzzling news, I looked around at all the residents of the ship. Andy was anxious. Phil was also nervous, but gave me a shaky grin, to which I smiled wanly back. Jem was looking sort of scared, which was totally understandable, since none of us knew what would happen if the bugs bit us. (And let me tell you, future companion, that I for one did _not_ feel like being the guinea pig!) The techie, Vincent, kept smiling a slightly creepy smile as the Doctor relayed his finding and his confusion. I got a weird vibe from Vincent, something I couldn't explain. My glance landed on the medic, Anne, who hair was pulled into a curly bun.

_Wow_, I muttered in my head, _she must use a ton of hairspray to get that look._

'So the question is,' began Andy, 'how do we kill them?'

And for the first time in my life, I had an idea!

'Anne,' I called. 'Got hairspray?' I inquired.

The Doctor rolled his eyes dramatically. 'Molly, this is no time to fix your hair!' he snapped, an angry glint in his brown eyes that I had not seen there before. Well, not since his previous regeneration, but I feel that the old Doctor is worlds away from this new one.

'Not to fix my hair,' I informed him patiently, determined to assert my authority. After all, I'd just had an idea. Since that was such a rare occasion, I felt I had some right to lord it over the others. 'Anne, could you go fetch as much hairspray as you can?'

She nodded, flitting off.

I turned to the men. 'Anyone got a lighter?' I asked expectantly.

For a moment, everyone stared back at me in bewilderment.

'Come on!' I chided, snapping my fingers impatiently. 'We don't have all day.'

In response, Any, Victor, and Jem pulled out a lighter each from their pockets. Deciding between the three, I chose Jem's: it was an awesome teal color.

By then, Anne returned holding six cans of hairspray. All the men gave her exasperated looks, eliciting the reply, 'Well, one never knows when we'll get new supplies.'

Grinning at her, I took a can she offered me. Looking pointedly at the Doctor, I showed him the hairspray, then the lighter. 'Any,' I started, 'open the door.'

The captain looked dumbfounded. 'But-'

'Trust me,' I interrupted, sending him a reassuring smile.

Looking doubtful, he moved to do so. I hurried to the door and positioned myself accordingly.

(This will positively astound you, future companion! Read on!)

The door opened. The insects flew at me. But I was ready. I lit the lighter and sprayed the hairspray across the flame.

I had created a blowtorch.

I soon killed every bug in that particular onslaught. There were, of course, still millions of the little beasts aboard, so I didn't let myself get a big head. At least, not a _very_ big head...

I was just about to turn around and grin at everyone when I heard the cocking of a gun and Vincent's voice ordering, 'Lower you devices.'

I don't mind admitting, future companion, that I was nearly scared to death. Slowly, I laid the can of hairspray and the awesome-colored teal lighter on the floor.

'After all,' sneered Vincent. 'I can't have you destroying my creations, can I?'

'_Your_ creations?' echoed the Doctor.

'Turn around,' Vincent ordered me. I obliged, my heart beating unbelievingly fast. 'Yes, 'Doctor. My creations. You see, there are a lot of people that disapprove of wasting money on space exploration when there are people going hungry. I was commissioned to destroy the mission.'

I was facing him now. He held his gun with a practiced hand. I panicked. I didn't want to die.

'But since Little Miss Clever had put you onto the hand-made blowtorch, I can't have any of you live to kill my painstakingly engineered beauties. So, fittingly, I'll get rid of the clever one first.

He moved to pull the trigger (I was in the midst of a Hail Mary) when the Doctor drew his sonic screwdriver with a speed that would have made the Lone Ranger turn green with envy and jammed the gun. Anne kicked the gun from Vincent's hand and Phil pinned his arms behind his back. (Jem looked wildly for duct tape to tape him to a support beam.)

The Doctor hurried up to me. 'Molly, are you-'

I cut him off my crushing him in a grateful hug. His decisive action in jamming the gun were different that his old 'reason with them, talk it out' routine, but I decided that his new ideals were... less risky.

He hugged me tightly, laughing. 'I take that to mean you're ok.'

'Oy, lovebirds!' cried Andy. The Doctor and I sprang apart, both blushing. 'While I've taken a liking to him, he has one great flaw that prevents me from feeling that way about him: he's not the man- _alien_- he was before. In hugging him, I was merely showing him my gratitude, not expressing any deeper attraction.

Anyway, off that tangent: Andy told us to search the ship for the rest of the insects.

The Doctor grabbed a can of hairspray and took the lighter offered to him by Andy. Grinning at me, he mimicked my earlier actions and held up the two weapons of mass alien bug extermination.

'And you,' Andy said, pointing at me. 'Why didn't you just say blowtorch? We have some in storage!'

I rolled my eyes and followed the Doctor out to search for bugs.

'Personally, I like _your_ way better,' the Doctor informed me with a small smile. 'Much more inventive.'

'Why, thank you!' I said, laughing.

Soon all the bugs were dead. The Doctor got a bad bite off one. He reported that it stung like a bee sting, but I don't actually have any idea.

When we left, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned to see Phil standing there. He pressed a slip of paper into my hand and winked.

The Doctor rolled his eyes and pulled me into the TARDIS. I just had time to wave goodbye to the crew.

As the TARDIS began to dissolve, the Doctor faced me, leaning in a relaxed fashion against the console. 'So...'

'What?' I asked, grinning at him.

'Aren't you going to see what your boyfriend gave you?' he prodded, smirking.

I blushed profusely. Future companion, it felt so awkward hearing the word 'boyfriend' coming from him. I don't know why; it just did.

He started to laugh lightly, making me realize that he was waiting for an answer.

I shook my head. 'No,' I said snottily. 'Not while you're around to tease me.' And I flounced off and into my room.

I'm lying on my stomach across my bed, looking at Phil's piece of paper. Guess what was written on it! His phone number and a scribbled and entirely capitalized "CALL ME!" I unfolded it fifteen minutes ago and haven't stopped giggling since.

Looking at his messy scrawl makes me feel slightly giddy. While the old Doctor couldn't love me, and this new Doctor probably won't either, some guys still think I'm worth it.

In fact, that makes me so happy that I'm going to pin Phil's note up on my corkboard next to my Fall Out Boy and Yellowcard posters. (Trust me, that's a real honor!)


	8. The Doctor's Thoughts

Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

A/N: Sorry, this is a short chapter. I wanted to separate it from Molly's journal, so I figured a separate chapter would work. Enjoy!

The Doctor's P.O.V:

Molly's cheeks reddened, making me laugh.

'No,' she said. 'Not while you're around to tease me.' She turned on her heel and stalked into her room.

I suddenly stopped laughing. What made her think I was going to tease her?

At that moment, I heard Molly burst into a fit of horrible giggles. _He probably gave her his phone number,_ I thought.

Returning to my question, I realized that my old self would probably have given her hell about Phil's note.

You know, I'm really starting to hate my former self.

Come to think of it, I really hate my _current_ self. Molly stuck with me always, even after this most recent regeneration. Her kind heart was always dependable and steady. I recalled a time when she saved a fawn from a bear trap. The animal's suffering was mirrored in her eyes... which, come to think of it, were rather striking.

I thought back to the tea fiasco a couple days before. Though she was laughing, she kindly helped me out. _And today,_ I thought, _she was so polite to the irritating Phil._

'I really hate you, 10th form,' I muttered, closing my eyes. To think that I took Molly's trusting nature for granted! I wasn't even aware of the details of her true self. The reading, the danger-lover that made a blowtorch out of hairspray and a lighter. I was so focused on the exterior. How many other things about my companion was I unaware of?

I then resolved to find out.


	9. Days 7 and 10

Day 7

Sorry, future companion, for missing days 5 and 6. The Doctor and I both agreed that we simply had to take the Barcelona trip early. It was rather spontaneous, if truth be told.

I was just slathering a large amount of grape jelly (we ran out of raspberry, much to the dismay of taste buds) onto a piece of toast when the Doctor floated into the room.

Yes, floated. Unlike before, he does not bounce when he walks- he seems to glide... almost floating about. He moves very fluidly. It is quite hard not to watch his every move, wondering how he could possibly be so graceful. It sort of makes me jealous. I wish I could be so graceful. I'm lucky if I get past breakfast without spilling something.

Anyhow, he floated into the kitchen, smiling. Really, I like his new, softer grin. It's much more relaxed. Like warm sunshine rather than a solar flare. He greeted me with a casual "morning, Molly" and joined me in a slice of toast.

'What fascinating and strange experience does today have in store for us?' I inquired with a light giggle.

He shrugged. (Again, I wish either he'd stop doing that or I'd feel less uncomfortable when he does shrug.) 'I don't know.' He thought for a moment before saying, 'What do you say to Barcelona?'

I felt completely blindsided. Where on earth- sorry, in the _universe_- did that come from?! 'Um...' I faltered. 'I suppose... but is there any particular reason?' I inquired, noting that I'd accidentally spilled grape jelly on my khaki pants. Irritated with myself, I grabbed a napkin and began to wipe furiously at the purple stain.

'Not... really?' He looked confused. 'Is that supposed to be a trick question?'

I bit my lip, ceasing my furious attempt at stain removal, and slowly looked up at him. 'No, it wasn't intended to be a trick question,' I told him calmly.

He gave a small half-shrug. (I am really starting to hate that gesture!) 'I just thought it would be a nice interlude,' he confessed.

So we decided to spend two days on my favorite planet. Well, second favorite, I suppose, but second only to Earth (though I've seen it in the year 3102 and it's not exactly the prettiest sight I've ever seen). (Earth, I mean. Ha, not Barcelona!)

To tell the absolute truth, this trip wasn't exactly the bonding experience one would think it could be. It felt horribly awkward. Well, the first day was, anyway. Whenever I saw a familiar sight, I got this tight, twisting feeling in my stomach, and I remembered things. Like how his old self preferred the noseless Saint Bernards to the noseless Yorkies. (And how he had to fish me out of a literal dog pile. I knew I shouldn't have brought that many biscuits.) And we ended up eating lunch at the same café we always did before. And it made me feel like a traitor to the old Doctor. I mean, I was already warming up to his new self, only... let me count... _eight_ days, if you count the day before I started this log. How pathetic is that? Of course I miss my old Doctor. Oh, pardon me; _Rose's_ old Doctor. Stupid whore. I felt like, instead of getting into this routine, I should be clinging to my old memories of the old routine.

Naturally, I drew back into my shell. My responses to the Doctor's questions became shorter, and I can only presume that my smiles became shakier.

But instead of either backing off or trying to fill up the awkward silences by chatting my ear off (like he would have done before), he pretty much bent over backwards to ask me things that would get me talking. It was like he could sense my pulling away and was trying to reel me back in. He was asking questions he'd never asked before.

For example, as we were waiting for our bill at the café, he sighed and said, 'I wonder what kind of people end up working at cafes for their whole lives.'

Wondering how random he could possibly be, I made a slight noise in the back of my throat and scooped an ice cube (dyed blue to compliment my green soda-like drink) out of my glass with a spoon and transferring it to my mouth.

'Not many kids I know would say to their mothers, "mommy, I want to work at a café!". No, they'd probably say "daddy, I'm going to be an astronaut someday!"'

I smiled, remembering my old friend Jack, who had been the one kid in my first grade class who wanted to be a cook. 'You never know, do you?' I muttered, sucking my ice cube.

'What did you want to be as a kid?' he asked, leaning back in his chair.

I stared at him, thinking. What on earth was he playing at, anyway? 'I don't know. My ambitions changed a lot.' I remembered something, though. 'When all the other little girls I knew wanted to be ballerinas and princesses, I wanted to be a pirate.' I smiled, remembering my childhood dreams and plans. 'I wanted to be free, sailing the ocean blue.'

A soft grin lit the Doctor's face. 'You know, I can see that. You seem like a fighter,' he said as the plump, motherly matron gave him the check.

'What about you?' I inquired, shoving one more ice cube into my mouth before we got up to leave.

He shrugged. 'Didn't really have much of a choice, you know.' His usually pleasant face suddenly looked pensive and sad, so I decided to let it lie.

Well, I suppose the trip wasn't a total waste. While strolling down the street, I occupied myself with window shopping. I found a cute, cute, cute red top and a new pair of converse (in a color I'd never seen on a shoe before; a green rather like the color of the leaves of Sherwood Forest in the height of the summer). (And yes, I know this from experience. Such a gorgeous color- I've never seen Sherwood's equal for beauty!)

Oh, and that was only the first day. The Doctor and I stayed in a hotel in a quiet part of town (in separate rooms, of course, for propriety's sake). (Yes, I _do _live my life in a pseudo-Jane Austen world.) My room was comfortable, with a view of the city sprawling out in front of me. I managed to remember my iPod when we left the TARDIS, but not this notebook, which made me sad. So I almost dozed off to hippie songs, staring at one of my favorite cities in the _universe_. Ha, I caught myself this time! I didn't say world...

Anyhow, the next day was a bright sunny one with puffy, cotton ball-like clouds floating gently in a sky of brightest egg-shell blue. It was such a pretty sight that the Doctor and I couldn't justify spending the day in the metropolis. So we took a walk in the countryside. Such lovely scenery! Oh, how to describe it...? Ah, yes. Well, I suppose I would say it's a mix between the Mediterranean on the lakeshore (yes, a big lake right outside the city), the Scottish highlands, and the west coast of America on the high bluffs. Wow, right?

We found a nice dry spot in a big field and began cloud-gazing, just talking. Mostly stupid stuff, like how nice the weather was on this trip compared to our last one (it rained all three days; it was absolutely atrocious weather!). Occasionally, we'd point out some shape or another in the clouds. About twenty minutes into this, a song came to mind, so I started singing. '_Goes and floes of angel hair, and ice cream castles in the air, and feathered canyons everywhere, I've looked at clouds that way...'_

The Doctor laughed. 'Have I ever taken you to Ogle-TR-56b?' he inquired, looking at me.

I shook my head, also laughing. 'Why would anyone call a planet that?' I asked, closing me eyes and picturing aliens with big eyes. (Ha, get it? "Ogle"? Oh, never mind.)

'The natives don't call it that!' he exclaimed. 'That's just the name your Earth scientists have given it. The natives call it "Himnaríki", actually.'

'Really?' I sighed, enjoying the feel of the laughter I'd just shared with him. 'What's so special about Himnaríki?' I asked.

'The clouds are so thick you can actually stand on them.'

I gasped, sitting up quickly. 'Seriously?!' I exclaimed. 'Are you pulling my leg?'

And you'll never guess what he did... well, maybe you might, since it's such a Doctor-ish thing to do. Anyway, he grabbed my ankle and gently pulled. 'Now I am,' he said, grinning foolishly.

Glaring playfully at him, I tugged my ankle back. 'But seriously! Can you really stand on them?'

The Doctor held up two fingers. 'Scout's honor,' he swore.

I didn't quite get it. 'S-sorry?'

'It's the Boy Scouts of America,' he explained.

'Oh,' I murmured. Lying back down, the wispy clouds caught my eye, and I tried to imagine people standing on them. 'How do you know this, exactly?' I asked, guessing the answer.

He smiled ruefully. 'I accidentally landed on one once,' he confessed.

'Let me guess,' I drawled, meeting his eyes. 'You did a bit of unexpected cloud-diving?'

He laughed. 'That's certainly one way of putting it.' Sighing, he smiled at me. 'Someday I'll have to take you there.'

I nodded. 'I'd like that.'

And with that, we went back to the hotel and now here we are, back on the TARDIS. Not a total loss, but I wonder... why on earth... crap, I said it again. I meant why in the _universe_ was he being so strange?

I'll have to figure this out.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Day 10

I'm sorry I haven't written in a few days. I've been sick.

I woke up the _morning after_ the morning after we got back from Barcelona with a congested with a congested sinus, a bad cough, a splitting headache, and alternating fever and chills. For an hour, I didn't even have the energy to get out of bed. When I finally _did_ get out of bed, I put on my sweatshirt over my pajamas, walked into the control room, and collapsed onto the couch.

The Doctor was (maddeningly) awake and chipper. He glided out of the kitchen and smiled. 'Molly! I thought I head you. I-' He caught sight of me, collapsed miserably on the couch, and his face fell. 'Oh. You don't look well,' he said.

It took all my energy to let out a rueful laugh. 'Well-spotted, Mr. Holmes,' I muttered.

And so we began two days of drifting (well... _three_ if you count today...) so I could recover my health.

Let me tell you, future companion, it's almost worth being sick just to have the amusement of seeing the Doctor play nursemaid!

He insisted I stay on the couch, covered in so many blankets that I was absolutely sweltering. (He took the blankets from my bed, and t took him 20 minutes to dig a couple more out of a tiny closet in the far reaches of the sprawling TARDIS.) (Don't worry about getting lost, future companion; everyone gets lost every once in a while. Trust me- even after 3 years, I STILL get lost on rare occasions! If the TARDIS likes you [and you'd better hope she _does!_] she'll lead you back to the control room. Or you may already know that...) Next to me the Doctor set up a box of Kleenex and a glass of orange juice (which tasted as though it had been in the fridge for too long.

I fell asleep for a while- I'm not sure how long- and woke up in a huge coughing fit. Lord, I HATE being sick! After I managed to keep my lungs in their proper place, the Doctor made a pot of tea.

Mix on high. Add water. Knead until smooth. Repeat.

And now here I am- 10 days into this log. I read through this notebook while I was under the weather (I've officially crossed the Brontë sisters off my reading list!). Only 10 days have passed, yet it feels like a lifetime. I don't feel perfectly at ease- even I am not so optimistic as to claim total comfort. Still, I feel like I am getting to know the Doctor again. I'm feeling... safer. More stable.

This must be somewhat like how the Doctor feels when he takes on a new companion. Strange... I've never thought about it that way before...

A/N: Now, Himnariki isn't actually a planet, but Ogle-TR-56b is. I don't remember what galaxy it's in, though. (And just for reference, "himnaríki" means paradise in Icelandic.) (Not that I actually _speak_ Icelandic.)

The sick nurse thing just kind of hit me, and I felt like putting the Doctor into a role we don't usually see him in. (And a role that suits his name better!)


	10. Days 11 and 12

Chapter Ten

Day 11

Today was a drifting day. After all, I need a day to "recover from the bug", to use the Doctor's words. In simpler terms: DEAD BORING! I told the Doctor that I felt perfectly fine. And I really do. My lethargy is completely gone. My nose is totally un-stuffed, and my throat is back to its normal old self. My stomach feels a bit… well, uneasy isn't the term. You know when your stomach feels like it just might, possibly, maybe be a tad bit queasy? Yeah, that. More unsteady than ill. But it's in fine shape for some sort of activity.

I begged. I pleaded with him. I appealed, entreated, beseeched, supplicated, implored, and even prayed that we do something interesting or go somewhere fascinating, but he would not yield. To use his words, we were to 'travel in the slow lane today, and give your body a bit of a holiday'. To this, I reposted, 'My body doesn't need a holiday. What it needs is exercise!'

'Nonsense. The last thing we need is for your weakened immune system to be set upon by a particularly belligerent virus.'

He would not be swayed. So I made him feel keenly my disappointment. I sighed heavily, and turned my eyes heavenward. 'Oh dear, what will my poor legs do? No exercise for days. What will happen when we next run from an assailant? They'll fair collapse underneath me, and-'

The Doctor was grinning now, shaking his head. 'Nice try, Molly,' he said, raising an eyebrow at me. 'Next time, turn the melodrama down a notch, and I might just buy it.' And with that, he departed for the kitchen. 'What'll you take this morning, tea or coffee?' he called over his shoulder.

I sighed. 'Tea,' I answered, following him. 'And bring on the sugar.'

I started another book (quite brilliant actually; I've never been much for fantasy books, but the Inheritance set is quite good, and I decided to start Brisingr. It's good! Check it out, if you have the time!). I had grown bored as the Doctor was doing some maintenance on the TARDIS, so I grabbed my iPod and put it on shuffle as I read. Then came the moment that altered the mood for the rest of the day.

The song had just changed to "Fighting" by Yellowcard. Now, I can't very well sit still and keep quiet to that song, can I? Do you blame me, future companion, for setting down Paolini's great epic and starting to sing (admittedly loudly and out of tune) along to one of my favorite songs?

"What am I fighting for?

There must be something more!

For all these words I sing,

Do you hear anything?

What am I fighting for?"

I started to dance, bouncing up and down like a dog on a bunch of sugary fudge, waving my arms around and occasionally bursting into a furious air guitar.

And suddenly, I heard another voice singing along. It wasn't on the iPod (trust me, I'd know; I know the song like the back of my hand). And despite many aspersions cast on my sanity, I am not in the habit of hearing random voices in my head. I looked furiously around for the perpetrator and immediately, my cheeks began to redden.

The Doctor was standing by the console, singing along and smiling at my antics. How humiliating!! I hurriedly pulled the earbuds out of my ears, turning off my music device.

'Aw, don't stop!' the Doctor cried happily. 'I was just beginning to enjoy myself!'

I was blushing still, but I was beginning to smile, too. 'I didn't know you were a Yellowcard fan,' I told him. 'You never really said.'

'I picked it up a few years ago, but I'm starting to get back into it,' he explained.

I nodded, turning my iPod back on and putting the volume all the way up, starting the song over again. The rest of the day was punctuated by random outbursts of singing and interpretive dancing, during which I introduced the Doctor to Mayday Parade (see, I like a lot of those angsty, funny American alternative bands), as well as the Wombats and the Cribs.

Drifting's not too bad after all. But really, tomorrow I am determined to go somewhere.

Day 12

My dear future companion, I hardly know what to say, but… NOTHING happened today. Oh, sure. We actually went somewhere, but it was so frightfully boring that I have nothing interesting to say about it. We went to *insert planet name here*. It was pretty. Nice violet skies and pretty deep green grass. (Not the color we generally have on Earth, mind. Really dark.) For a few minutes, I was excited… until I realized that all we were going to do was hike.

'See, there's no one on this planet yet,' explained the Doctor as he struck out, followed closely by me. 'I made sure the atmosphere is suitable to you (meaning humans; if you haven't yet noticed, future companion, he likes humans, but doesn't give us much credit because "the Time Lord race is just _so_ superior in every way") before landing, but the kind of life that's here in a couple centuries requires air of a different chemical composition than your Earth air. So the sky turns from purple to yellow, and the grass evolves into a hardier variety. Really, I'm giving you a chance to see this planet without wearing a gas mask.'

I raised by eyebrows at his retreating back. 'Oh, thank you so much for your beneficence,' I remarked, carefully masking the sarcasm in my voice.

We continued on hiking for a couple hours, stopping occasionally to "admire the scenery". Translation: he thought my frail human body needed a rest.

After about three of these "scenic" stops, I tutted at him. 'Doctor, you can stop trying to give me time to rest. I'm perfectly capable of walking.'

He smiled wanly. 'Sorry,' he muttered. 'I'm just trying to help.'

I felt a bit bad, so I tried to make up for my rudeness. 'I know, and I'm touched, but it's also kind of aggravating.'

He nodded and we set off again.

'And why exactly are we spending hours out here?' I asked, stepping up to a trot to draw even with him. 'I mean, it is lovely, but we must have seen at least a thousand mountains and a billion and a half interesting trees.'

He smirked slightly. 'Well, I was giving your poor little legs some exercise,' he said with mock solemnity. 'What you said yesterday made me think. You were right- what if we are set upon by creatures and your legs give in? I wouldn't care to lose you when such a thing could be prevented.'

For a second, I thought he was serious. My jaw hung open and I stared at his profile (which was strikingly set off against the sunset). Then I noticed the glint of humor in his eyes, and I let out a strangled laugh. 'You've got to be kidding me!' I exclaimed.

He also laughed. 'Yep. But I have an idea for tomorrow,' he said, his voice laden with hints.

I gasped, starting to bounce up and down. 'Really? What is it?' I inquired. 'Something exciting, I hope.'

'You'll see.' And he wouldn't say another word about it, though I was trying desperately to wheedle it out of him for the rest of the day.


	11. Day 14, Pt 1

Chapter Eleven

A/N: **Happy New Year's Day, sissy!** I promised you I'd get some better chapters out by today, so here they are! Please enjoy!

Day 14

I was right! We sure did something exciting yesterday! We went to a grand ball at Versailles!!!! I can hardly believe it! I even danced with the King of France!!

We spent the morning sitting around and doing nothing. I kept sighing in a pointed manner in an attempt to let the Doctor know that I was bored.

At around noon, he finally said, 'Well, what do you say we go somewhere?'

'Finally!' I exclaimed, jumping up from my seat on the couch. 'I thought you'd never ask!'

We hurried to the console (him with his new gliding gait, and me with my "hyper puppy" bouncing one), and in no time, we were off! I need hardly tell you, future companion, that I was almost hyperventilating from excitement. After not doing anything remarkable for five days or so, the prospect of adventure made my spine simply tingle with anticipation.

When we halted (rather jarringly, in the typical style of a TARDIS landing), I fair flew to the door, throwing it open. The sight that met my eyes was a completely foreign one, though I vaguely remembered seeing something similar in some textbook or another a long while ago.

We had landed in a huge hallway, and by huge, I don't mean long. It was enormous in all its proportions, as though giants built it. The paint on the walls was, I must say, a nauseating powder blue color, but the intricacies in the gilt gold border, the marble trim, and the magnificent mosaics and frescoes (even on the floors!) more than made up for the gross color. Carefully manicured plants were displayed at intervals through the hall, on pedestals (no doubts made of some expensive material) which were also intricately carved. Mixed among the plants were highly expensive-looking works of sculpture, in the Greek and Roman style, mostly. (This, of course, means a lot of nakedness; why the zipped-up, tight-stayed Europeans of the colonial/revolutionary age liked all the bare skin, I'll never know!) I stepped out of the TARDIS and took a better look. Now I knew where I was!

I turned around and grinned at the Doctor. 'I'm guessing Versailles?' I exclaimed, hands on my hips. I guess it was an obvious one- no where on Earth is quite as opulent as Versailles.

'Nice one, Holmes!' he said smiling. 'Louis the XIV's reign, actually.'

'Wow!' I breathed, staring around. 'I never knew it would be so… huge!'

I heard footsteps to my left, and looked around to see a gaudily-dressed older woman, her grey hair piled high on her head. She took one long look at the TARDIS, at the Doctor, and at me, both her eyes and her mouth open wide. 'What in the name of God…' she faltered, hand on her heart.

'Morning!' called the Doctor, smiling softly as he strode up to the lady. 'Sorry about the…' He gestured to the TARDIS. 'Erm, thing. I wasn't sure where I'd end up.'

'Who are you, sir?' she asked, the speed of her breathing returning to normal. 'And your lady?'

I blushed at being called his "lady". That was a term generally associated with "wife", and that kind of freaked me out.

'I'm the Doctor,' he informed her, his brown eyes sparkling. 'And that's Molly. We… well, we're travelers here.'

'That much is quite apparent, sir,' the woman responded, eyeing him up and noting everything from his yellow "Paramore" shirt to his trainers. She observed me, also; under her stern gaze, I suddenly wished I'd put on something more civilized than my old, ripped jeans and a loose-fitting blue t-shirt. But to justify myself, I will say this: I didn't know how much physical exercise (a.k.a. running and jumping over stuff) we'd be getting today.

'I apologize. Where have my manners gone?' she inquired lightly with a laugh. 'I am Madame Dubois.'

'Nice to meet you,' I intoned, holding out a hand for her to shake.

Long story short, we started talking and our presence was made known by a particularly obnoxious pageboy who happened to walk by as the Doctor was discussing the TARDIS's broken chameleon whatsit (I know basically what that does, but I can never remember the name of it). Soon, all the people in the palace knew all about the "foreign diplomats from a place called Tardis", who dressed in strange clothes and talked with somewhat vulgar words like "whoopsie" and "dude" and used phrases like "what's the deal with that?" and "what the crap?" It was new and interesting being the object of curiosity. Usually, the Doctor and I end up being the enemy, or the annoying people trying to bring justice to the oppressed. This time, we were interesting, exotic, and fascinating. Quite the change!

At around three in the afternoon, we'd worked our way outside and walked around the (magnificent, well-kept, breath-taking) gardens. The Menagerie was interesting, but I felt bad for all those animals who'd been taken from their natural habitats and dropped into a strange place where people stare at you and point all the time. Lady Dubois was open-minded when it came to who we really were. She didn't bat an eyelash when the Doctor threw around the word "alien" and said things like "Dalek" and "Time Lord". I was surprised by her easy way of conversation. I had imagined all noblewomen to be straight-laced twits who were completely devoid of intelligence.

When it came to about four o'clock, a well-dressed servant girl sidled up shyly and told Madame Dubois that it was about time she readied herself for this evening.

I gave the Doctor a questioning look as Madame Dubois nodded and said she'd be along in fifteen minutes.

'Umm, what did she mean, ma'am?' I inquired.

'Why, the grand ball tonight!' replied Madame Dubois with a smile.

The Doctor met my eyes with a grin. 'What luck! We arrived just in time for a little celebration.'

I rolled my eyes. As if he didn't know there'd be a function tonight!

So within minutes, Madame Dubois had whisked me off to her apartments and deposited me in a royal blue settee. 'Just wait here for a moment, and I will have Cecile attend to you,' she informed me, sweeping out of the room.

I sat for a moment, twiddling my thumbs. Then I got bored and stood up, wandering around the room and looking at various objects d'art set on Madame's writing desk and sideboard. I had picked up a small figure of a country girl with a yoke over her shoulders (hideously sweet and with a total disregard for the reality most peasant girls faced) when the door opened. I nearly dropped the blasted thing, but managed to keep my fingers wrapped around it until I put it gently back on the desk. I turned to see a young woman with a pleasant smile and a bundle wrapped in cloth held in her arms.

'Madame sent me to help you dress,' she told me.

I tried to seem nonchalant and comfortable, but I really had no idea what she meant. 'You're Cecile?' I inquired.

She nodded, setting down the bundle in her arms.

'I don't think I need any assistance, but thanks for the offer,' I told her.

But as soon as she opened the bundle, I realized that I _would_ need help. First there were the underclothes. Seriously, did women need to look as absolutely lung-busrtingly skinny?! The corset wasn't even the worst part. (Though I don't appreciate being squished, I am vain enough to state that I can appear thin with the assistance of stays.) The worst part was definitely the dozens of petticoats that I was forced to wear under the overdress. I could hardly walk in them, and I was darned if I would be able to dance in them! Finally, after about twenty minutes, my dress was on. It was crimson, relatively simple for the time period. It had slight flounces on the bottom that rustled when I walked. The skirt did stick out a little more than I'd have liked, but there was no fixing that.

Then it was time for my hair. I told Cecile to keep it as unfashionably simple as she possibly could, but it still took a good hour to get my hair pinned up, curled and set. She picked up the tin of powder, ready to dust my "do" with it, but I put my foot down. (Figuratively, I mean. Not literally). I told her that powdering one's hair was against the religion of the citizens of Tardis. I'd be darned if I let someone rub baby powder all over my hair! I also refused all the fake bird, jewels, and flowers Cecile tried to stick in the curls. She looked dubious, but led me to Madame Dubois' full length mirror. I didn't see what she was so unhappy about. I looked fine. I'd even venture to say I looked quite pretty. The shade of crimson the dress was might have been a bit dark for my skin tone, but oh well.

As I looked away from the mirror, ready to thank Cecile for all her help with the stays and with my hair, the door opened and Madame Dubois entered, looking dignified in an elaborate violet dress, he hair done up far fancier than mine. A fan dangled from her right wrist. She took one look at me and smiled. 'You look very nice, my dear,' she intoned with an approving nod. 'But, Molly, your hair. If you were to allow Cecile to powder it-'

'I'm sorry, madame, but I'd much rather keep it this way,' I told her firmly.

She, like Cecile, looked unconvinced, but allowed me to go as I was. I followed Madame Dubois into the hallway and met the Doctor. Madame smiled and said she would be going, since I was properly escorted, and swept away down the long corridor.

The Doctor smiled. 'Nice dress,' he said, gesturing to my apparel.

I thanked him, nervously straightening the long, lace-trimmed sleeves.

There was a page boy standing by the door. (What a rotten job those poor boys have. Guarding empty rooms waiting for orders. I feel bad for them!) As I looked around the corridor, I met his eyes and smiled.

**(A/N: I can't get my computer to add the proper accents, so the accent circonflex is supposed to be over the first 'E' in etes, and the accent aigu is supposed to be over the 'E' in tres, and the last 'E' in enchante.)**

'Vous e^tes tre's belle ce soir, mademoiselle!' the page said, blushing slightly.

I smiled at the boy. 'Merci,' I said, smiling brightly.

The Doctor and I down the hallway. When we were out of earshot of the page, the Doctor stopped and turned to me, saying, 'He's right. You are very beautiful tonight, Miss Goodwin.'

I looked down at herself, blushing. 'I can't understand how they breathed wearing these corsets, though,' I muttered in a tiny, breathless voice. Attempting to take a deep breath, I said, 'Or how they managed to call themselves modest with these low necklines.' I attempted to pull up the neck of my dress, which was showing an amount of cleavage that I hated to be flaunting. Generally I don't show much below my collarbone. I looked up, giving up on my pointless quest. There was no hope of making a _French_ gown modest…

'Anyway,' I piped cheerily, 'should be fun. I've never been to a ball before.'

'Not just any old ball!' exclaimed the Doctor happily. He makes me smile. Really. Not many people get as psyched about things as he does. Anything he does, he does with as much passion and vigor as he can possibly give. 'A grand ball at Versailles!'

I smiled as he took my hand in his. (And about that, he's never done that before. Held my hand, that is. Sure, he would drag me along by the hand, but he never… well, anyway…)

'And I must say, I'm putting my money on you filling your dance card tonight,' he said, smiling down at me with his soft smile. 'But of course, as your escort, I demand at least one dance.'

I laughed softly. 'Of course. When all the lords and dukes are flocking to me, I don't want you to feel left out,' I said sarcastically, making him laugh.

We entered the grand ballroom, and I let out a gasp, gazing dumbstruck around me. This room was the biggest, grandest, most ornate room I had ever seen or been in. It was full of people in flamboyantly-colored silks, laughing, dancing, and drinking the best French wine. There was an air of festivity that was absolutely contagious. I smiled as she looked around.

The Doctor noticed my amazement, and laughed. 'You like it?' he asked, though he must already have known the answer.

'Like it?' I managed to squeak, squirming uncomfortably in my constricting corsets. Really, I can't believe women didn't revolt because of those stupid things!! 'It's... wow, this is amazing.' I looked over at him and grinned. 'Thank you so much for bringing us here.'

'Well, you _did_ say you wanted to do something interesting today,' he pointed out, scanning the room with that quick, observant gaze of his. 'And I thought some dancing might exercise those legs of yours.'

I laughed.

Suddenly, (and I'll never know how this managed to happen, but) a man in a rather nauseating concoction of puce silk had taken my hand and administered a gentle kiss to my knuckles. 'Mademoiselle,' he purred. 'Enchant'e.'

Not knowing what else to do, I dropped a graceful curtsy.

'As am I, monsieur,' I murmured. I was being polite, you see. Ok, so he was kinda cute, if you ignored the gross puce color. His hair was a kind of sandy brown, cut short but not like a buzz cut. He had penetrating eyes and a small smile as he looked into my eyes.

'Might I claim the first dance with you, my lovely lady?' the man asked.

I stared at him, fighting the urge to laugh out loud. 'Of course, I should be honored.' Well, what else was I supposed to say?! I wasn't about to answer with "no thanks, I hate your suits".

The man moved away, grinning to himself.

I glanced at the Doctor, wondering how he had reacted to the puce concoction. I found myself being rather amused to see that he was staring after the man with a distasteful expression on his face. I wondered if he had the same fashion sense as I did. I laughed, jolting him out of his reverie.

'Well, you're already getting claimed,' he said, clearly making an effort to be cheerful and teasing. 'So, as for the dance you're giving me, I put dibs on the last one.'

I looked at him curiously. 'The last one?' I repeated. 'Why the last one?'

He shrugged. 'It's always the prettiest tune.'

'And how many balls have you been to exactly?' I inquired, laughing slightly.

He smiled. 'A great many, actually. So I speak from experience.' He accepted a glass of wine from a passing servant, thanking him in a warm way that the servant was probably unused to, for the poor server looked at the Doctor as though he were some sort of lunatic. I smiled, recognizing his sincere nature, though I'm not sure the servant understood that the Doctor was always this way. 'So,' he said, after downing half the glass of red liquid. 'What is your favorite dance of all time?' he asked.

I pursed her lips, thinking. 'I'm not altogether sure,' I said, speaking slowly because I had no clue what time period he meant. But I'd read about a dance once… what was it called again? 'I've always been fond of the Sir Roger,' I said, hoping I didn't just make an idiot of myself.

The Doctor smiled, and I knew I'd at least picked a dance that existed. 'Ah, a nice, fast dance that really gets your blood moving!' he said approvingly. He threw the remaining wine down his throat. 'Mmmm, need to get some more of that,' he muttered, more to himself than to me.

'And what about you?' I asked. 'What is your favorite dance?'

He cocked his head, thinking. 'Well, can't say really,' he said, thinking. 'Though I've always been partial to the sarabande.'

I grimaced, recognizing the name from the piano lessons of my youth. 'That slow one?'

He nodded. 'That one.'

The music started up, and I groaned. 'Oh, lord!' I muttered, fussing with the crimson silk of my sleeves, not from nerves but for something to distract myself from the fate that might befall me on the dance floor.

The Doctor must have sensed my anxiety and hurried to lay aside my nerves, which was really kind of him. He sighed and took my elbow, turning me gently to face him. 'Molly, don't be nervous. You look absolutely beautiful.' I met his eyes, and I though he was just trying to be kind. He smiled in that quiet way of his and continued, 'You really do look beautiful. And if any man here thinks otherwise, they have no brains in their thick skulls.'

I laughed slightly, but only to mask my discomfort. I was worried that the wine he'd drank had gone straight to his head and confused him. After all, he'd always been polite and encouraging, but he had never sunk to such obvious flattery. 'All right, sure. Whatever,' I muttered.

As though he had teleported, the man who had reserved the first dance appeared irritatingly at my side. 'Mademoiselle?' he said, offering me his arm.

I took it, and he led me onto the polished wood dance floor. I was scared stiff. I had no idea how to dance like this! I had taken a couple years of ballet, but that wasn't the same thing. Otherwise, I'd just done the usual modern dance, though I mostly did the "techno bouncing up and down" thing rather than the hip gyrations. The only thing I knew about classical dance was what I'd seen in Jane Austen movies. So butterflies were whizzing all around my stomach as we waited for the music to start.

Luckily, it was a waltz, so I wasn't too lost. (Liam had taught me how to waltz at my cousin's wedding a few years ago.) Feeling more at ease, I started talking. He introduced himself as Lord Adolphe, to which I responded with a lame, 'I'm… Molly.' As we talked, I found him quite kind and funny.

The dance soon ended, and he made to lead me back to "my escort", but he was waylaid by two dapper-looking men, one in black velvet and the other in a grey brocade. Both men had their hair (or wigs, I should assume) powdered heavily in the style of the time.

'Good evening, Adolphe,' greeted the taller one in black.

The tightening of Adolphe's lips and the cold glint in his eyes told me he was not fond of this nobleman. However, he did the polite thing and bowed. 'Sir Edouard.'

'I hope you have not forgotten our appointment tonight,' Edouard sneered. I decided I didn't like him. He seemed slimy and nasty. Not literally…

Adolphe nodded. 'I have not forgotten,' he replied stiffly.

'Good. Good,' muttered Edouard. 'It would be a shame if you did not show. It is of a most pressing nature.'

'Of course.'

With another bow, Edouard left, his minion in grey following him.

I gave a light laugh. 'He seems most unpleasant,' I stated as we resumed our way through the crowd.

'He _is_ most unpleasant,' he said, confirming my suspicions. 'But I agreed to discuss our business affairs with him this evening.'

'Business affairs? Don't you have lawyers and assistants to do that sort of thing?' I inquired. I'd previously thought that aristocrats did nothing for themselves. Stereotyping, sure. But still…

He sighed dramatically. 'He has recently been lobbying for a merger between our two estates, which are neighboring plots of land. He seems to think both farms and villages could profit more if we worked together.'

I shrugged. 'Seems like a sound idea, really. Divided is conquered, you know,' I reminded him.

'Yes, but he's always been dashed rude to me before. Why should he suddenly reform now and want to merge our estates?'

That was a tough question, but I was determined to give an answer. 'Maybe he's realized that he can't get away with his old ways, and is eager to reform himself and his image.'

Adolphe nodded, but he didn't looking convinced. We neared the place where the Doctor was standing, but he wasn't there. I wondered where he was, but I couldn't say I was surprised. After all, he hadn't changed _completely_ when he regenerated. He still couldn't stand still.

I stared around, trying to spot him, and finally, I found him, talking to a richly-dressed man with a friendly smile. Smiling, I started off, Adolphe close behind me. It took me a while, fighting through the milling crowds, but I eventually reached his side, tapping him on the shoulder.

He turned and smiled at me. 'Hello, Molly. Good dance?' he inquired lightly.

'Very nice, yes,' I answered. I glanced at the man he was talking to. He looked oddly familiar; again, I thought I recognized him from an old textbook…

Adolphe had drawn up beside me, and when he saw who the Doctor had been conversing with, he made an emphatic bow, saying, 'Your majesty.'

I knew he'd looked familiar! My jaw dropped. I was standing with King Louis XIV, the Sun King! I followed Adolphe's example and showed my respect by curtsying.

'Lord Adolphe,' began the King. 'I'm glad to see you. I wanted to discuss your elevation.'

I did a double-take. Wait… Adolphe was being elevated? And suddenly Sir Edouard wanted to merge their estates? Something wasn't right.

'Adolphe,' I began, putting a hand on his arm. 'You have a meeting with Sir Edouard tonight?'

He nodded.

'Where?' I asked. Both the King and the Doctor looked between us, confused.

'Th-the garden,' Adolphe answered slowly, unsure of where I was going with this.

I bit my lip nervously. 'Escorted, or not?' I pressed.

'I don't know,' he responded.

'What's wrong, Molly?' asked the Doctor.

I pointed to Adolphe. 'Lord Adolphe is receiving an elevation?' I asked the King, clarifying.

The King nodded. 'I was planning on bestowing upon him the office of a duke.'

'Sir Edouard has been pressing Adolphe to merge their two estates,' I explained, tripping over my words in my haste to be understood. 'And they are to have a meeting to discuss these affairs, tonight, in the garden.'

The three men just stared at me like I was a raving madwoman.

I snarled under my breath. 'Don't you see? If their estates are merged into on, they are business partners, and everyone knows if one partner dies, the other is left to fill their office.'

The Doctor was the first to catch on. 'So, if Edouard convinces Adolphe to merge their estates after Adolphe has been elevated, and if he makes it official, he can kill Adolphe and take his title and his lands.'

'Exactly!' I exclaimed. 'All, except for the murder, legal.'

The King let out a low whistle. 'You should be glad this young lady came along, Adolphe,' he said, nodding at me. I felt myself blush.

Adolphe had gone white.

After a few moments, we had concocted a plan. Adolphe was to go, as planned, to his rendezvous with Edouard. A troupe of guards was to accompany him, and steal into the garden unseen.

A sound plan. If we'd only known that it wouldn't go as planned.

**To be continued…**


	12. Day 14, Pt 2

-1Chapter Twelve

Day 14, continued

Lord Adolphe had gone to meet Edouard, and the King had swanned off a few moments later to accompany the troupe of guards, leaving me and the Doctor behind. We would follow in a few moments; no need to look suspicious to the other partygoers.

'What an interesting evening this had become,' I sighed, watching the dancers.

The Doctor nodded. 'A party, a murder plot, and excellent wine,' he said with a grin. 'Nothing better.'

A few moments passed, and we moved from the ballroom to the garden, but instead of hearing an arrest taking place, we arrived to sounds of a fight. Looking at each other for a brief moment, we exchanged fearful looks. He drew out his sonic screwdriver, and I spied a shovel left carelessly by a gardener leaning against a fence. I picked it up and followed the Doctor, running into the garden.

The King and Adolphe were in the middle of the melee, both fighting with the sword of fallen guards. They were fighting against Edouard, his grey-clothed minion, and several of Sir Edouard's bodyguards. What had been intended as a quick arrest had turned into the possibility bloodshed.

Without thinking, both the Doctor and I threw ourselves into the fight. It was freakin' scary, but what else were we to do? After al, what is it Shakespeare said? Oh… what was it? I'll have to go look it up. Oh, yes! He once wrote, "Cowards die many times before their deaths; the valiant never taste of death but once." Morbid, yes. But still…

It was beyond difficult to fight Edouard's men, especially in a big dress and a suffocating corset, but since I had the shovel, and in many cases the element of surprise by sneaking up on my victims, I simply whacked them in the head. Brutish, I know, but I didn't _kill_ them. My shovel was a better weapon than a sword for stunning, not killing, a foe.

The King managed to extricate himself from the ruckus, and raised the alarm, bringing more troops and guards. Finally, with much shovel-wielding and slashing, we had rounded up Edouard and a few of him most skilled fighters. The King strode forward and, in a very kingly manner, declared them under arrest for plotting against the Crown. After a lengthy speech on the evils of greed and the duplicity that was to have happened had "this lovely woman" (referring to me, surprisingly) not predicted Edouard's actions, he ordered the loyal palace guards to seize them. To this, Edouard just laughed.

I stared at him, unable to understand why he engaged in such mirth as twelve or so guards closed in on him and his companion.

'You might not want to do that,' he cried, holding out a hand as though this could prevent the guards from continuing their approach.

I met the Doctor's eyes (he was across the pseudo-circle from me) and I could tell he was terribly curious about what Edouard could possibly mean. 'Why not?' he asked as the troops stopped their approach, listening raptly.

'You fail to comprehend the magnificence of my defense,' he claimed, beginning to pace around the circle. 'You mere humans do not realize that I can escape just as surely as King Hamlet disappeared before Horatio.'

'Disappear?' Adolphe repeated. 'How can you disappear?' He laughed; a nervous, uncertain laugh. 'Mere humans! He's mad!' he cried to the garden at large.

'Mad?' shot back Edouard angrily. 'Mad?! Not I, sir!' He turned to the Doctor. 'You, Doctor. You are the only one who would understand.'

I was beginning to fear alien involvement; after all, who else would single the Doctor out as the one to talk to about such things as "mere humans" could not understand. I sighed and rolled my eyes; why do we _always_ have to end up fighting aliens?!

'Me?' the Doctor queried, eyes narrowed in confusion. 'Understand what?'

Edouard let out a cold, hard laugh that sent shivers down my corseted spine. 'Do you really think I would simply be satisfied with the title of "Duke" and a few extra acres?' he jeered. He turned to Adolphe. 'You would have merely been the first. The first to donate your life and lands to the new Empire.'

Everyone was listening in bleak, morbid anticipation.

'Empire?' The Doctor's voice was sharp and taught now. 'What Empire?'

Edouard smiled a sick smile that made me flinch.

'You know much of alien affairs, Doctor, being of such origins yourself. Think hard. This planet is perfectly adaptable for nearly any kind of creature, is it not?' Edouard was explaining this with the maddening air of an impatient teacher teaching an unruly, unintelligent child. 'Come now, Doctor,' he said as the Doctor narrowed it down to a few species.

'Some sort of mind-possessing species,' he muttered under his breath. 'Gaseous? Taking possession by either being breathed in, or through any other opening. Eyes, ears…' He snapped his fingers, impatient with himself. 'What are you called?' And suddenly, he remembered. His eyes got wide and a grin flitted across his face, making him look like a kid who'd remembered how to spell the final word in a spelling bee. 'Taistelukaasu! That's it!'

I felt many eyes watching me, and looked around to see that most of the guards were giving me questioning looks. Smiling, I said aloud, 'Yes, he _is_ always like this. Don't even bother trying to understand.'

'But is Sir Edouard still in there somewhere?' the Doctor asked, taking a step closer. I really didn't think it was a good idea for him to get any closer, but I trusted him; he knew what he was doing. Or, at least, I _hoped_ he knew what he was doing. 'Is there still a part of his brain that doesn't belong to you?'

'You mean this _isn't_ Sir Edouard?' the Kind asked, bemused.

The Doctor shook his head. 'The body is his. Well, it's what housed Sir Edouard's brain, his soul. But what I don't know is if he's still in there, or if the Taistelukaasu completely take over the minds of their victims. That's why I'm asking-' he turned back to Edouard- 'is he still in there somewhere?'

Edouard hesitated. 'No,' he answered slowly. 'No, he's gone.' Then an evil grin spread over the possessed face. 'But is it really a loss, Doctor? A mere human. So unintelligent. So crudely formed, so uncivilized. Can it really be lamented, the extermination of the human race?'

The Doctor's face hardened, and anger blazed in his eyes. 'You really shouldn't have asked me that,' he snarled, drawing his sonic screwdriver. 'There's no species in the universe quite like the humans. Extermination of the humans is like destroying the Mona Lisa. You just don't mess with them. Especially when I'm on their side.'

Edouard laughed menacingly, taking a step toward the Doctor. 'Perhaps you'll be the first, Doctor. A Time Lord. Hmmm, one can only imagine how valuable a Time Lord can be, serving the Empire. My kind sent me and a select few to scout this planet, and to begin colonization.'

'You were planning to take over land, bit by bit, starting with France, eh?' questioned the Doctor. 'Interesting choice for a starting place,' he commented lightly. 'And interesting choice for a time. Soon the Industrial Revolution will start, and soon after that, humans travel into the unknown. After establishing a stable colony for about, oh… three hundred years, you could infiltrate the space agencies and expand you precious Empire through space travel, after giving the humans ideas for bigger and better space ships.'

Edouard was smiling an approving smile now. 'Oh, Doctor, you've more than lived up to your reputation. The universe knows you as quite the intellect, you see.'

'Flattery will get you nowhere,' said the Doctor, the angry snap back in his voice. 'You do realize fiddling with fixed events and changing the way a whole planet evolves must be against at least a dozen intergalactic laws.'

Edouard sneered at the Doctor. 'And what exactly are you going to do about that, Doctor? You have no authority as a lawman, and you surely cannot fight me and my men single-handedly, now can you?'

'He wouldn't be fighting single-handedly, you pea-brained, lily-livered son of a chicken!' I cried. (Don't ask me how in God's name I came up with that stupid name, but it slipped out of my mouth, so I thought I'd stick with it.) 'He's got me.'

The Doctor's eyes met mine and I saw both gratitude and amusement written in the brown irises. 'And there's no need to fight.' He turned, criminally calm, to face Edouard again. 'I can take you, in full surrender, to the galactic courts, or if you insist on being obstreperous, I can simply call upon the Judoon and they can track you across time and space.' Note to self: look up obstreperous when I have the chance.

At the mention of the intergalactic police force, Edouard went pale. 'Do you think for a moment that any of your threats scare me?' he jeered, but there was a tone in his voice that suggested that he was scared stiff by what the Doctor was saying.

Deciding that the diplomacy was not working, a few of the guards stepped forward to apprehend him and his men.

In no more than a second, there was a flash of light, and all of the rogues had disappeared.

'No, no, no!' cried the Doctor, rushing forward as though he could catch them before the got to… wherever they were going. Seeing that they were indeed gone, he let out a snarl and turned on the men. 'What in Rassilon's name did you do that for?' he demanded. 'We could have had the bugger if you'd have just kept still!'

The guards looked slightly ashamed of themselves, but no more than that.

'What's left but to call the Judoon?' I muttered, laying a consoling hand on the Doctor's arm. He nodded.

'Right. I'll get back to the TARDIS and do just that,' he answered dully. As he walked off, he turned back and called to me, 'Meet me back in the ballroom.'

I nodded to show that I'd heard, but I didn't move.

Until I heard a noise from behind me.

I turned to see the King laughing lightly. 'Well, this was all rather exciting, wasn't it?' he chuckled.

Adolphe, still looking dreadfully pale, didn't look as though he agreed in the slightest. After all, nearly getting killed for the sake of an alien Empire is a tad disconcerting.

Disregarding everyone's disinclination to respond to him, the King sighed and suggested we all return to the ballroom. We looked a little disheveled, but we agreed. On the way to the ballroom, I was walking alongside the King. We didn't speak much at first, but then he asked me if he might have the honor of the last dance.

I was about to answer "yes, of course!", for dancing with a King would be a great thing to check of my 'to do' list, when I remembered my promise to the Doctor. _'I put dibs on the last dance…'_

'Oh, Your Majesty… I am greatly honored by your request, but I am sorry to tell you that the last dance is reserved for someone else.' There. Simple, to the point, and as kind a "no" as can be said, right?

I was bummed that I had to refuse him. Dancing with a King would be awesome! But hey, promises are promises, and anyway, I owe the Doctor more than I owe the King of France, to put it plainly.

But the King was not to be dissuaded. 'Second to last, then.'

That, I couldn't refuse.

So… future companion, this is an absolutely brilliant way to end an entry… I danced the Sir Roger (my "favorite" dance, haha!) with King Louis XIV, the Sun King, King of France, after saving a new friend, Lord Adolphe of Rennes. The King is- _was_- a light-hearted, open-minded, and fun to talk with. And an excellent dancer. Really- he basically taught me how to dance the Sir Roger while we were doing it! It was tough in a long skirt, but I managed.

'I do not believe I thanked you properly earlier,' he whispered in my ear as he lifted me into the air (for there's a bit in the Sir Roger that the man lifts his partner into the air repeatedly; it'd suck to be the guy, really). 'For both saving my prospective duke, and for saving France. I owe you quite a lot, little lady.' He smiled.

I could feel myself blushing again. Dancing with the King was enough, but hearing him say he was in my debt? Wow, that was more than any one person can ask for!!

'Really, your majesty,' I muttered, casting my eyes to the ground in an attempt to show both humility and respect. 'It was mostly the Doctor-'

'You do not give yourself enough credit, my dear,' he said.

I mean, sure, I figured out that Edouard was plotting against Adolphe, but it was the Doctor who figured out the rest, and who really saved France.

So the dance passed excitingly (and quickly), until the song was over and the whole room clapped for the musicians. I curtseyed to the King, who gave me a slight bow.

I felt a slight tap on my shoulder, and I knew who it was before I turned around. Smiling, I came face to face with the Doctor.

'It's the last dance,' he reminded me.

Indeed it was. And, if I might be permitted to say, despite the fact that I was just dancing with a king, and said king was one of the most amiable men I've met, it was also the best dance of the night.


	13. Day 17, Pt 1

Chapter Thirteen

A/N: All right! After my long absence from this story, I'm finally publishing another chapter! I wasn't satisfied with this chapter, so I almost kind of really gave up because it depressed me so much. But now I've figured out an alternate storyline for these chapters, and everything is ok!

This next adventure was initially inspired by a rather fantastic book I've just finished reading (and have started reading a second time because I loved it so much) called _The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society._ If you haven't read it, YOU SHOULD! No joke- it is epic! Anyway, apart from the characters, the setting, and the actual event of the German air raid on Guernsey, I have totally done all of my own stuff with this chapter. If you're thinking about reading this book, be assured that it has absolutely _nothing_ to do with aliens. So, here's presenting the next chapter!

Day 17

Has it really only been two weeks and three days since I started this log? In some ways, it feels like it's been ages and ages since the Doctor regenerated. Strange, how I feel like I've known this form for years, rather than just seventeen days. I just enjoyed a nightcap (just tea; no alcohol, since there's hardly a chance to stock the larder, much less a bar) with the Doctor, on that stupid old couch. (I think it's time to invest in new furniture- a spring popped out from one of the cushions this morning. Something… oh, I don't know… something sophisticated… but I'm rambling. Again.)

Yesterday was an adventure. So was today, but not quite as much of one.

I got up, wondering why I was so excited, then I finally realized that "oh my goodness! the Doctor's going to show me something today!" So I leaped out of bed, pulled on some well-loved jeans, tugged on a sweatshirt, and skidded into the control room.

He was there, waiting for me with a big grin on his face. Well, not big for his old standards, but it conveyed his anticipation.

Forgive me once again while I ramble… I'm finding it increasingly easy to see his new face in the mornings instead of the old one. I don't know how to explain it… it's like my mind is now used to his black hair (with which he's been experimenting with different styles; one day it's gelled, the next it's flat, the next "tousled"; I wonder what he'll settle on), his taller, rangier build, his softer voice. Ok- tangent over.

'So,' I began, smiling and bouncing up and down on the balls of my feet excitedly. 'What is it?'

'What is what?' he inquired, deliberately employing an innocent (totally unconvincing) look on his face.

'The thing you want to show me!' I said breathlessly. He was building up the excitement, I could tell. And it was working; I was trembling in anticipation.

His face split in a grin. 'All right.' He led me to the other side of the console, and pointed…

At this little box. It was small- about small enough to fit in the palm of the Doctor's hand (I say "the Doctor's hand", because his hands are bigger than mine, and it fits better in his than in mine so I didn't feel like saying something more difficult to write… which I might as well have done, because my explanation is longer than what I would have said…)- and black, made of a dully-painted metal, with a few switches and dials on the top, as well as a compass. It was a bizarre little thing, almost more suited for an airplane control panel than the TARDIS console.

'So… what is it?' I asked, unable to keep the "human/dumb chick/unintelligent/unappreciative" boredom out of my voice. Why in the universe was he so excited about this little thing, anyway?

'This,' he told me in a "you should be _way_ more impressed than you are" sort of way. 'This, my dear Miss Goodwin, is a location locating locator.'

I thought he was kidding.

I laughed and muttered, 'Funny, Doctor. Funny.'

He looked slightly offended. 'What's so funny about it?' he wanted to know, picking up the device carefully, as though scared of dropping it.

'Who calls a thing a "location locating locator"?' I wondered, laughing still. 'Weirdest name I've ever heard!'

'I don't know,' he murmured thoughtfully, his brown eyes fixed on his hands. 'I thought it was kind of catchy. You know… like, the same root word used three times, yet it still makes sense.'

I guess I could see where he was coming from. 'So, what does it do?' I asked without thinking.

A second later, I realized how dumb that sounded.

He and I burst out laughing at the same moment. 'And I used to think there was no such thing as a stupid question…' he chuckled.

'Ok, so it locates locations,' I conceded, wiping tears of laughter from my eyes. 'Cool.'

A mischievous glint filled his eyes. 'Care to test it out?' he asked me.

Needless to say I accepted that offer. With a squeal I started bouncing up and down. 'Yes! Let's do it!' I cried, excited to once again be off into the great Unknown. (Yes, I did capitalize it. When you've been traveling with the Doctor for as long as I have, you start to regard adventure as a personification of… something. I don't know. All I know is that the Doctor and I are good friends with the Unknown.)

I held on for dear life as the good old TARDIS started its familiar jerky dance as we flew through space and time.

A last bump as we landed. I could hear, from outside the TARDIS walls, explosions detonating.

The Doctor and I met eyes, and my new fear was mirrored on his face.

'What did you just land us in?!' I burst out, scared.

He shook his head as an indication that he had no idea.

Well, as with those bad horror movies where viewers start yelling at the screen when the hero and heroine do something stupid, we moved to the door in unison. A particularly violent explosion rocked the ground beneath the TARDIS, making it quake and tremble. I tripped over my right pant leg (ok, so maybe a "5 long" was a bad idea…) into the Doctor, knocking him into the metal of the door.

'Oof,' her grunted. 'Thanks, Molly.'

'Any time; you can always count on my clumsiness,' I assured him.

Smiling, he gripped the door handle and pulled the door open.

It was hard to tell what time of day it was when we stepped out into the open. The quality of the light suggested that it was near dawn, but the smoke in the air was so heavy that it was hard to breathe, much less actually see where the sun was in the sky.

Coughing, I covered my mouth and nose with my hand, trying to stop myself from inhaling too much of the dusty smoke. I could hear engines roaring overhead, and several distant screams.

'Molly! Run!' I heard the Doctor shout, but glancing around, I couldn't find where he was. It was as though he had vanished into the haze of smoke created by the bombings.

'Doctor!' I called, coughing more violently now. 'Doctor, where are you?!'

I was terrified, future companion. Simply terrified. I'd been through an awful lot in the last couple years, but I had never been in the middle of an aerial attack. Well, unless you count that one time on Aviate with all those psychotic bird creatures… but I'm not going to count that.

'Doctor!' I screamed, eyes stinging in the choking smoke.

I felt a pair of hands grab me by the elbows and suddenly I was being half led, half carried across bumpy, grass-carpeted ground.

I felt safer, knowing I wasn't alone in the haze. I thought it was the Doctor who was saving me. Little did I know…

I tripped over a few large ruts in the ground before my savior and I slowed our pace. I could still hear screaming, but the roars of the engines were dying away slowly. I could still hear them, though. They sounded like a hoard of angry bees, vindictively striking out at anyone and anything in their reach. More explosions, farther off, but still inciting screams from the people around us. I kept my eyes tightly closed and my hand over my mouth as protection against the smoke. My heart was pounding violently, my breathing was rushed and slightly painful in my lungs, which were still burning from the smoke.

I heard voices now. Scared voices; some shouting, some wailing, others mere whispers of fear. I felt other people bump into me. Breathing was easier now—the smoke must have been growing fainter and fainter. Was it safe to open my eyes?

'Quick, get in, lass!' said a voice in my right ear.

Involuntarily, I opened my eyes and turned to see the man who had pulled me to safety—it wasn't the Doctor.

I gasped loudly and attempted to yank my arm away—after all, he was a stranger, and isn't every child raised with the mantra "stranger = danger!" engrained in their head.

'Stop that! Just get inside!' he ordered me, pointing to the small hospital that we had just reached. A flow of people was pouring past us, creating a crush at the small doors of the medical facility. The man drew my attention back to him when he informed me, 'I'm going to find the rest of the women and children!' He had to shout to be heard above new explosions and roars.

I obeyed, and looked at him. He was a tall man— not quite as tall as the Doctor, but nearly so—with a tangle of black-grey hair atop his head. His weathered visage was not what one would call wrinkled and old, but he was clearly about the age of forty-five, and it was equally clear that he'd had a hard life. He'd known sorrow. His dark eyes held the same kind of hidden wisdom that the Doctor's eyes hold, but not quite as pronounced.

Nodding, I did as he told me, and hurried inside the building, but not before calling back, 'Be careful!'

He nodded at me, a ghost of a smile flitting across his hardened face. 'I mean to be,' he answered as he hurried back into the smoky distance.

**To be continued…**


End file.
